Every whisper, every sigh (eats away this heart of mine)
by Tarafina
Summary: "If I have no chance, if you're really done with me… Say the word. I'll respect it. I'll stop trying to fix it. Just tell me you're done… Because if you don't, I'm not going to give up on you." [Part 5 of the Broken Hearts and Betrayal series]
1. Plus One

**Title**: Every whisper, every sigh (eats away this heart of mine)  
**Series**: Broken Hearts and Betrayal  
**Category**: Arrow  
**Genre**: Angst/Romance  
**Ship**: Felicity/Oliver  
**Rating**: Teen/PG-13  
**Word Count**: 8,727  
**Summary**: "If I have no chance, if you're really done with me… Say the word. I'll respect it. I'll stop trying to fix it. Just tell me you're done… Because if you don't, I'm not going to give up on you."

**Previous**: When they ask me if I regret it (I'll lie and say I do), I really fucked it up this time (didn't I, my dear?), I saved you every time (I was a fool for love), Things cannot be reversed (we learn from times we are cursed),

**_Every whisper, every sigh (eats away this heart of mine)  
_**-1/2-

**I**.

It was their one month non-iversary.

To celebrate, mostly her own strength and not the actual demise of their relationship, Felicity would not be secluding herself in her apartment or eating ridiculous amounts of junk food. The time for crying and regretting how things turned out was over.

Exactly one month ago, she and Oliver officially ended their relationship. Okay, more aptly, _she _ended their relationship. And, technically, three days earlier was the anniversary of when she emotionally cut herself off from him after finding him and Laurel Lance kissing in his office. But today was one month after she found him in her apartment, desperate to explain himself, before she decided that no, she would not let herself continue in a relationship without trust. And that wasn't all on him, it was on her too. She didn't trust him. Even when he explained that Laurel kissed him, some kind of desperate act to prove to herself that she was over him after a bad breakup… _Closure_. She laughed bitterly in her head.

See, that was the problem. It wasn't that Felicity didn't love Oliver, or that he didn't love her, it was that she didn't believe he ever stopped loving or hoping for Laurel. So no, the trust issue was not all on him, it was on her too. She'd spent years by his side, watching the on-again, off-again saga, and when it finally seemed to be over and he saw her there, _really _saw her, she tried to convince herself that he wouldn't just drop her like a sack of potatoes as soon as Laurel so much as breathed in his direction. But it was hard to put that much trust in a person, not because Oliver wasn't worth it, or hadn't proven time and again that he would always be there for her, but because she'd seen him try and try and try again to be what Laurel wanted and needed. Failure after failure and it only made him try harder. What woman wouldn't look at that and think that everyone outside of them were just pit stops before they finally got it together?

And, well, it was a wake-up call. Not one she particularly liked. In fact, some days she wished she hadn't picked up at all, and she was still happily ensconced in the blinding afterglow of what she had with Oliver. And other days, particularly days when every muscle in her entire body screamed at her to stop, she knew that she was doing the right thing.

Her celebration of their non-iversary would be spent at Dynamite Gym. She'd started going to kickboxing classes three times a week, at first just to work off her anger and hurt, and later because it felt good. She had a lot of stress in her life, and a lot of secrets weighing her down. There were days when she felt weak, and on those days, kicking the crap out of a weight bag actually made her feel better.

Sometimes John joined her; he would train her there rather than at the foundry, whatever it took to make sure she was safe if something ever happened and she didn't have her two muscled partners in vigilante-ism to step in and save her. But most of the time, it was just her, the instructor, and the other women who wanted to work off some steam. And usually, after the class was over, she was the only one who stayed longer to keep beating the bag, and her wibbly-wobbly self-esteem, into submission.

So tonight, after work, that was where she would be. Not wallowing, not drinking copious amounts of alcohol, not finding excuses to sleep on her couch so she wouldn't notice how empty her bed was without his large body there to take up most of it. There would be no pity party for her. Nope! She was going to carry on with her head held high and completely ignore the voice mails Thea had left her, wondering why she wasn't at the last three weekly dinners with Oliver and how she better be there tonight or Thea would personally find her and pry all of her electronics from her bony fingers. Personally, she thought the 'bony fingers' comment was a little hurtful and unnecessary, but she understood that Thea was only worried and confused and this was how she expressed it. Obviously Oliver wasn't telling anyone they broke up, which she might have confronted him about, except she was trying her best not to be in his general vicinity.

She still went to the foundry, more so in the last week than the three before, but it was only to update her computers and exchange information on whoever was terrorizing the city that week. Oliver had, thankfully, given her the space she wanted. He followed her carefully constructed schedule of when she would be coming in to the foundry, and when she'd prefer he not be there. He was always upstairs, though; always within reach if she needed to share her findings with him. Most days, she could spot him across the club, talking with bouncers or staff, figuring this or that out. He didn't turn to look at her, but she could always see the way his shoulders tensed as soon as he heard the click-clack of her heels on the floor. He knew it was her and, worse, it was a reminder of things that had happened.

But he didn't turn to stop her, to force her to listen to him like she knew he still wanted to. As much as she tried to avoid him, they still had contact. Each night, when he suited up to take out bad guys, she was there. She didn't stick around during his patrolling like she used to, only when he needed her eyes and ears for one of the big fish. It felt weird, not to linger, to help him dress up and paint his face, to hand him his bow and kiss him good luck before he left. She tried to leave while he was dressing, so she didn't have to think about it as much, didn't have to feel the familiar twitch of her fingers as they wanted to reach for him.

He lingered before patrolling. He tried not to stand too close to her desk, but sometimes he forgot, sometimes he got too close and only stepped back because he could see how she tensed. And she'd watch his hands ball up into fists at his sides as he moved out of her space and tried to put his focus elsewhere, asking questions in that gruff voice of his that tried, and failed, to cover his hurt.

And he did hurt. She didn't doubt that. She understood that Oliver hadn't wanted to break up, he didn't want to hurt her, but it didn't change their circumstances. It had happened, it was over, and she was moving on as best she could. He needed to do the same.

It was nearly lunch when she got the call. She didn't bother checking the call display, the double ring told her it was someone within the building. "Felicity Smoak, IT," she answered.

"I'm going to quit."

Felicity's lips twitched as she let out a laugh under her breath. "Cynthia, this is the third time you've threatened to quit in the last four days."

"Are you implying I won't? Because I will! I _will_ quit! He's driving me _crazy!_" Angrily, she said in a hushed whisper, "Nothing is good enough for him. Yesterday he told me I clear my throat too much. How does someone even _do _that?"

"He's just lashing out. He's been stressed."

"No, stressed I get. Stressed is when he starts pacing, like he's been doing for the last forty minutes. Stressed is when he gets that weird ticky thing in his jaw. But this, this is not stress, this is him stating very clearly that he doesn't like me and he doesn't want me to be his assistant."

"Oliver wouldn't know a good assistant if they bit him on the ass and waved a gold medal in his face for being the greatest executive assistant in the entire universe…" she argued. "Look, it's not you, it's him."

"I've done _everything _he asks! I picked up his coffee order this morning, just like always, and when he said it wasn't hot enough, I warmed it up, and when he said it was too hot, I blew on it. And by then, he decided he didn't want coffee, he'd just have water, but it had to be room temperature. So I poured him a glass from the jug he keeps in the office, but then he said that water was stale…" She sighed, long and loud, and Felicity could just imagine Cynthia rubbing her temples. "So I filled it with fresh water, but that water was cold, so it had to sit for a while. Apparently tired of waiting, he said he wanted the coffee, but it was cold now too, and he was staring at me like it was my fault. I'm not kidding you, he stared at me with those beady eyes—"

"He doesn't have beady eyes."

"I'll call them whatever I want to when he's being a tyrannical asshat. So they were beady, all right!?"

Felicity bit her lip to hide her amusement. "Fine. They were beady."

"Right. So he was glaring at me with his beady eyes, all judgemental and angry, and I could see it. He didn't have to say it. 'You're not good enough. You're not who I want here.' That's all they said. And you know what? _Fine_. I get why he's already had two other assistants quit on him. He— I don't know what happened on that island, but he's got some kind of Jekyll and Hyde thing going on, because one minute he's nice and friendly and the next, as soon as he realizes he has to call me into his office and rely on me to do anything, it's like he's suddenly the jerkiest jerk to ever jerk. And I don't want to do it anymore. So you need to find a replacement, as soon as humanly possible, because if I have to put up with one more—"

"Cynthia?"

She stopped, the gruff voice of her boss interrupting her. Clearing her throat, she replied, "Uh, yes, Mr. Queen?"

Felicity strained her ears to hear his reply.

"Did you put in the lunch order for today?"

She sighed, quietly enough that Felicity barely heard her. "Of course, sir. Just like every day."

"And you made sure—"

"No peanuts. I reminded them three times."

"Good," he replied shortly.

A few seconds passed before Cynthia made a low growling noise. "Not even a thank you. I mean, I know it's my job, but would it hurt him to show a little gratitude?"

"He forgets sometimes."

"That's no excuse!"

"I agree, but I don't think he does it to purposely hurt you," Felicity soothed.

"Whatever…" She sighed. "He's pacing again."

Felicity chewed her lip for a moment before finally raising a hand and pinching the bridge of her nose behind her glasses. "What color tie is he wearing?"

"Yellowish… Kind of gold, I guess."

"Is it tight or loose?"

"He pulled it loose like an hour ago."

"Okay, and did he pull it to the left or right?"

"Um, the… right…? No, the left. I always forget which is which."

"Okay. In your desk, right side, three drawers down, open it."

There was some rustling until finally, "Okay, now what?"

"In the wooden box, there are handmade teabags, take one out. He doesn't like sugar in it. Make a cup, let it steep, and bring it to him. Don't say anything, don't explain yourself, just put it on his desk and walk out."

"Really? Tea? You think _tea _is going to calm the savage beast?"

"Just trust me…" Felicity assured.

"Fine. I should go anyway. It's my lunch break. I'm hoping if I get out of the building for an hour, I'll come back and _not _want to quit."

"Does this mean you're taking back your verbal resignation?"

"No, I'm putting it on _pause_ and seeing if some Thai food from that nice shop on the corner calms me down… If I come back and he's still acting like a lion with a thorn in his paw, then I'm going to see who else is hiring. Because seriously, there's only so much bad mood I can put up with."

"And I understand that, totally, but as much as Oliver seems like a jerk, he needs you… _I _need you. Because if I have to sit through another rehiring process, searching for someone to work for him that meets all of my many requirements, I might just pull my hair out."

There was a pause and then, "I don't know if this is crossing a boundary, but… Why exactly aren't you still working for him? I mean, you know him better than anyone. I know the office gossip about how weird it was that he was dating his executive assistant wasn't always flattering, but you two made it work… And _obviously _he doesn't want anyone else around because they're not filling your shoes right. So why not come back?"

"IT is where I need to be," Felicity answered shortly. A knock at her door caught her attention then and she breathed a sigh of relief. "My lunch just arrived. Have a nice break, Cynthia. And please, try not to take it personally. He really does need you."

"Yeah, yeah…" she muttered. "I'll probably call you back in a couple hours to complain again. Thanks for letting me vent."

"Sure. Anytime."

After hanging up, Felicity stood from her desk and circled it, walking to the door. As she pulled it open, she offered a half-smile to the delivery boy.

He glanced at the bag and the name scrawled on the receipt. "Felicity Smoak? I have a lunch order here for you."

"Let me guess, fully paid for and a warning about a peanut allergy?"

He nodded, holding the bag aloft. "The tip was covered too, so have a nice lunch, ma'am."

With a faint sigh, she took it, smiling faintly in thanks and goodbye. She closed the door and walked back to her desk. This wasn't out of the ordinary. Oliver had started sending her lunch after the first week. She remember the first time it happened, she'd been startled at the knocking on the door, confused by the sudden intrusion and even more so by the food being pushed on her.

_Felicity stared at the bag, her brow furrowed. When she'd asked who it was from, she hadn't been surprised, but she wasn't sure what to do about it. She finally decided that it was a line that couldn't be crossed, not right now, not when everything was still so fresh. She called upstairs and waited impatiently for the new assistant to answer the phone. _

_"Mr. Queen's office, how may I help you?" Elizabeth answered, her voice sounding strained, forcibly polite._

_"Hi Elizabeth, it's Felicity—"_

_"Oh, thank god," she breathed in relief. "Please, you have to come up here. I can't do this. I don't _want _to do this. I think he's glaring at me. That's all he does. All day, every day, he's glaring at me. I don't know who I replaced, but they should come back and put him and me out of our misery, because he is not adapting well and I feel like crying. This job is killing me. The stress is killing me!"_

_"O…kay…" She readjusted her glasses. "I had no idea there was so much… tension in the office."_

_"Tension? This isn't tension. This is warfare. It's like he doesn't know I'm _his _assistant. The only time he's been nice to me was when he asked me to put in a lunch order for you this morning. Which, by the way, if you were going to ask, I'm supposed to tell you that he knows how often you get distracted with work and forget to eat, so he took the liberty to make sure you didn't forget to take care of yourself. Which, fine, is actually really sweet of him. But other than that, all he does is growl and glare at me. And I mean _'growl_,' I didn't think people could actually do that, but he's like an angry mountain lion that's just waiting to rip me limb from limb, I swear!"_

_"That's… descriptive. Look, I know Oliver can be kind of… aggressive. But he's got a lot on his plate right now, between Queen Consolidated and helping his sister run Verdant. He's just stressed out and—"_

_"Miss Smoak, I don't mean to be blunt, but that man hates me. Maybe not me _exactly_, but he hates that I'm doing this job. I have no idea why, but he does, and frankly, I don't want to be in a job where my boss hates me. I know he didn't hire me, and I thank you for the job, but I'm not sure it's the right fit…"_

_Felicity sighed. "When can I expect your letter of resignation?"_

_"Well... I sent it to you an hour ago."_

_Closing her eyes, she nodded. "Okay. Just… Please hold on as long as it takes for me to find a replacement, okay?"_

_"I will."_

_"And I'll write you a letter of recommendation for the hassle, all right?" _

_She breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you!"_

_"Sure. Sorry about, well, all of this…. I didn't think he'd react so negatively to having a new assistant."_

_She let out a bark of a laugh. "Negatively is one way of putting it. For the first three days, he didn't even say hello to me. He just grunted as he walked by and muttered something about how I wasn't 'pink' enough… What does that even _mean?_"_

_Felicity tugged on the collar of her pale pink top and shook her head. "It's nothing. Like I said, he's stressed, so he picks weird things to be upset about. Listen, I'm going to put out an ad for a new assistant, okay? So it shouldn't be too long."_

_"Okay, thanks. I'll let you go. I know your lunch is probably going to be there any minute. Mr. Queen was very adamant that it be on time."_

_"Uh, yeah, it actually just got here."_

_"All right. Have a nice lunch. I better go. He's yelling at someone on the phone."_

_Felicity closed her eyes, pressing a hand to her forehead. "All right, thank you Elizabeth."_

_After hanging up, she sat back in her chair and groaned. _

_She started thinking about the hassle it was going to be to find Oliver another assistant and absently started to unload her lunch. The smell was heavenly and she couldn't help but let a smile slip as her stomach gave a grumble of approval. It was too early for him to be making these kinds of gestures, but she had a feeling even if she told him that he would just ignore her. Often, during the time she'd been his assistant, it was him who reminded her that it was time to take a break for lunch, prying her away from her computers for some self-care. Usually, though, Oliver made it a point to leave the building for lunch. They didn't always eat at high class restaurants, but there were a few that had bottles of wine she'd only dreamt of adding to her wishlist. Oliver spoiled her, even before they were dating. Which should make this no surprise, but it was. _

_She understood he was angry; he didn't want a new assistant, he wanted her. She knew everything about him and his many secrets, which meant he could let his guard down. It meant he didn't have to put on a show all the time, especially in his office, but now he couldn't. Now he had to keep his image intact and he had to watch his words around his new, unfamiliar assistant that he didn't know from anyone. But she wasn't going back, she wasn't leaving the comfort of the IT Department, or snuffing out what little pride she had left to make sure he was comfortable. _

_He would just have to deal with it. Eventually, he'd get used to having a new assistant. He would have to._

_With that decision made, she dug into her lunch with a moan of appreciation. Maybe she wouldn't tell him to stop sending her lunch though; apparently she needed it, and he did know what she liked._

Taking a seat at her desk, she pulled out her lunch, spreading it out over the space she'd prepared for this exact reasons. Oliver always had his assistant send lunch at the same time; she'd become some adapted to the intrusion of the delivery person stopping by her office with food in hand that she prepared for it. And, like usual, he'd picked one of her favorite restaurants and meals. Her mouth was already watering.

She took her time eating, putting her work on hold for a much-needed break. Her shoulders were tense and her neck had a kink in it, clear signs she'd been too focused on her computers to take into consideration her body's needs. It would be about this time that Oliver would put those strong hands of his to work, rubbing away the strain on her shoulders. She could already imagine how her head would fall forward, chin on her chest, as his fingers worked out the knots down her neck. His lips would follow, just a short, sweet kiss to her nape, and then his hands would slide down the length of her back before he pulled her into his arms, settling her against his chest.

Her throat tightened at the thought, and she quickly rubbed her own hand over her neck to ease some of the discomfort. She needed to stop torturing herself with this stuff. Thinking about the good times so much that she missed them acutely.

A sharp knock at the door drew her eye and it opened a moment later, admitting a surprised Cynthia, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly agape.

"It worked," she said.

"What?"

Closing the door, Cynthia moved to plop down on the chair across from her. She was a pretty woman, with bright red hair piled on top of her head, horn-rimmed glasses that were more for fashion than sight, and warm brown eyes that showed the friendly nature that had drawn Felicity into hiring her. Cynthia was more than qualified for the job; she reminded Felicity a little of the wide-eyed IT girl she'd been when she first started at QC, only Cynthia had a much sharper tongue when pushed. She wasn't a doormat and she let it be known, which was it was probably so hard for to be around Oliver every day and put up with his attitude.

"I brought the tea in, put it on his desk, and walked out. He didn't say a word, he just kept pacing and grumbling. I was going to leave, get lunch, take some time to calm down, but then I looked over and he was drinking the tea. He sat down at his desk and he just… _relaxed_. All the tension just…" She swiped a hand through the air, "disappeared."

Felicity nodded, digging her fork back into her salad for another bite. "Tea is a thing with him. He only wears the gold tie when family is bugging him. It's an unconscious thing. I told him once it was the whole 'Queen' thing, you know, royalty, crown, _gold_…" She shrugged. "Anyway, when you said he pulled it to the left, that's usually a sign that he's going over something that happened. With the pacing, it just means that he probably had a fight with his mom or Thea and he can't stop thinking about it… So that's why I went to the tea. It calms him down. You can't use it for everything, but you said he'd been pacing for a while, so…"

Cynthia blinked at her. "I'm sorry. I think you lost me when you said you knew what was bothering him based on what color _tie_ he was wearing." Her brows hiked. "No wonder he doesn't like anybody else. You can literally read his mood based on his clothing choices." Tossing her hands up, she shook her head. "How? How is anybody supposed to measure up to that?"

Felicity wouldn't admit it, but part of her just plain didn't _want _anyone to measure up to her. She wanted to be the one and only, the very best he ever had… Was that too much to ask? Probably. It was probably really selfish of her, but she decided that was okay for the time being. It had only been a month. She could still be a little selfish.

"Shouldn't you be on your lunch right about now?" Felicity wondered, changing the subject.

Cynthia waved a dismissive hand and sat forward to eye her food. "He really goes all out, huh?" She sighed. "This is probably going to sound really Single White Female, but some days I'm really jealous of you…"

Brows hiked, she nearly choked on her salad. "Wh-_What?_"

"I mean, don't get me wrong, Mr. Queen is a total sourpuss…" Her nose wrinkled. "Grumpiest man I've ever had to work for. But… Something changes when he talks about you, or when he puts in the food order. He's just… _softer_, or something, I don't know. And when I talk to you about him, I guess, it's like you know a different side of him that I don't see, that probably _nobody _does. So you've got this amazing job and this handsome billionaire who's probably only happy when he's with you, and you're smart and pretty, and I'm over here, trying not to cry whenever he so much as glances in my direction, pulling my hair out with how stressed I am, with no boyfriend and no other job prospects and seriously regretting putting off college because of my stupid musician ex-boyfriend, who only ended up cheating on me with that bitch Mandy Lawrence anyway!"

Felicity blinked. "That sounds… hard…" she said, struggling with what to say.

"And now I've just unloaded a lot of personal stuff on my boss' girlfriend, some of which kind of implied that I wish I was her, but I swear I'm not crazy. I'm just really tired and stressed out and your boyfriend is a jerk who hates me and makes me hate my job!" She gulped in a deep, shaky breath, sounding like she was on the verge of tears. "Please, just let me mainline him that tea so I never have to put up with another of his grumpy glaring sessions…"

Her lips twitched and she shook her head. "If it's bothering you that much, I'll talk to Oliver about how he's been treating you. Like I said, I don't think he's doing it intentionally. You're just kind of the… scapegoat for a lot of his frustration. But you don't deserve it and that's no excuse. So I'll talk to him, okay?" She nodded. "And… And don't wish you had my life, trust me, it's… not as put together as it seems."

Cynthia scoffed, reaching up to wipe at her nose. "Yeah, sure," she said, disbelievingly. Standing from the chair, she moved to leave. "You know, I've only seen him smile one time, and that was at a picture he has of you on his desk. Most of the time he's either really angry or really sad; personally, I don't know how you do it… You must be some kind of super-woman."

With that, Cynthia took her leave, walking out of Felicity's office with little more than a wave.

Sighing, she slumped back in her chair, pushing her salad away, suddenly no longer hungry.

This non-iversary was already kicking her ass.

* * *

She was sweating, profusely, and it felt good. Panting, she raised her gloved hands and planted her feet.

"Left jab, left jab, left jab," Terry, the instructor, told her.

She aimed for the pad tied to his left arm as he stood facing her, and hit it with three powerful knocks.

"Good job. Left jab, right cross."

She punched with her left and followed it with a longer, stronger hit to his opposite, padded arm with her right fist.

Terry was the instructor of her kick boxing classes, but some nights when she came in just to burn off some steam, he offered to work one-on-one with her. He was a tall, thickly muscled man with olive skin and a no-nonsense attitude. Unsurprisingly, he and Digg got along great. Terry expected the best every time they fought and wouldn't accept anything less. When he saw her, he didn't see fragile, petite Felicity, he saw someone with power that she needed to learn how to access, and that was the kind of motivation she wanted and needed.

"One-two, one-two," he said as she continue with her left jab, right cross for five more combinations. "Let me see your knee." He lowered his arm to take the hit as her knee rose up with force.

_Left jab, right cross, left knee. Left jab, right cross, left knee_. The smack of her hitting the pads was all she heard, loud and hard. The force behind each blow made her feel strong; it made her feel in control and capable. While everything else felt like it wasn't what she wanted it to be, this she could make happen just the way she wanted it to.

It went on like that for a half hour. He changed the combinations, adding a round-house kick, changing it from a jab to a hook, picking up speed, demanding it to be faster, harder, until she was just answering his cues, just a machine that moved on auto-pilot, _attack attack attack_.

And then he wasn't telling her what to do, he was talking to her.

"You've been coming here a few weeks now, but I've never seen you this worked up…"

She gritted her teeth and threw three right hooks. "Bad day," she answered, before answering his physical cue for a left round-house kick.

"Looks like more than that."

She blew out an agitated breath threw her nose. "Can we just do this? Please?"

His brow furrowed. "Why'd you start coming here, Smoak?"

"Distraction. Protection. Boredom. Take your pick."

He shook his head and raised his left hand for her to start jabbing. "No, if you wanted that, you'd just ask Diggle. So what is it…? Why do this?"

Her face tightened as she kept hitting, harder and harder until her arms felt so heavy, so tight, that the strain was almost too much.

"Because I'm weak. I— I'm… I'm never enough… Not for anyone or myself… And I want to be more. I need to be more. I need to know that I can do this, on my own, and not have to rely on anybody else. Because they don't matter." She banged a gloved fist against her chest. "I matter. And when I start questioning myself, start wondering who I am anymore, or how much I matter, then there's a problem."

Slowly, Terry nodded. "I've seen a lot of people come through those doors… Self-esteem is one of the biggest reasons they stick around."

She raised her eyes to meet his. "I know I'm smart and competent and if you put me in front of a computer, I can do anything… But there are times when I just don't feel like I fit, like I don't measure up, and they eat away at me."

He stared at her a long moment and then he raised his arm again. "Right jab."

She took a deep breath and got back into position. She answered his request, and all the requests after it.

"Harder," he demanded.

And she did.

"Faster," he told her.

So she was.

"Nobody makes you weak," he said, raising his arm, motioning for a jab, a hook, lowering it for a kick. "If you feel weak, then _make_ yourself strong. You are in control. You make the decisions in your life. Nobody is better than you unless you _let _them be better."

She blinked back the burn of tears as she hit the pads again and again, raising her knee up to slam it into the pad once, twice, three times, giving a loud, angry growl.

"I was just as good as her. I was strong and I kept his secrets and I helped him, every day. I didn't expect him to be better. I didn't expect him to be who he was before. I pushed him when he needed to be pushed and accepted him for who he was."

Two left jabs, one right hook, and a left round-house.

"I gave him everything for three years. And for six months, I _was _everything to him. And he threw that way. _He _ruined that!" She could feel the tears slip out of her eyes, but she didn't swipe them away, she just hit and kicked and pushed herself. "She is smart and beautiful and they have history, and I am _tired _of feeling like I can't measure up. I'm tired of wondering if he'll ever love me as much, or more. I'm tired of wondering if he ever loved me at all…" She let out a gulping cry then and stumbled back, her fists falling to her knees as she bent over, trying to catch her breath. "I tried really hard. I did…"

Terry sighed, unlatching the pads on his arms and reaching for her, a comforting hand braced on her shoulder. "You are a bright, strong, amazing woman, Felicity… I don't know who broke your heart or who this woman is and I don't need to… I know that you work hard and you prove yourself every time you step into this gym. But you need to ask yourself who you're proving yourself to. Him… or you?"

She stared up at him, her chest heaving as she struggled for air. She pushed upright, fists on her hips. "_Me_."

He nodded, giving her a half-smile. "Good. 'Cause you have to come first…" He pointed at her. "Love's gonna come and go, you're gonna give your heart away and get it stomped on from time to time, but in the end, all that matters is you know you gave it your best shot… You know that you're worth the best, and you don't settle for anything less."

She stared at him a long moment and then nodded. "I do… I won't."

"Good." He reached out and started undoing the straps on the wrists of her gloves, pulling them free. "Now hit the shower and take the night off. You're gonna be feeling this workout for a few days, I think."

She managed a wobbly smile. "Thanks, Terry," she murmured sincerely.

"Sure." He patted her shoulder as he gathered up the pads and gloves. "See you soon?"

"Yeah, you're not getting rid of me anytime soon."

He grinned at her, and walked off to put away the equipment.

Stepping off the mats, she found herself feeling a little less emotionally heavy than she was when she walked in, and for that she was grateful.

* * *

Felicity didn't like showering at the gym, so she gathered up her things and drove home. She had an hour until she had to be at the foundry, so she took her time showering and eating a late dinner. The usual feeling of dread and discomfort wasn't as overwhelming for her as it had been previously. He would be there, she was expecting that, but she wasn't worried about being around him, having to see him.

It was progress.

After showering, she blow-dried her hair and tossed it up in its old ponytail. She hadn't worn it up in a while, and it felt like getting back to basics. She liked it. The drive to Verdant was easy; she put the radio on and sang along, putting in more effort than necessary, belting out Beyoncé with gusto, and possibly getting a few looks from passing cars, but whatever. It was her non-iversary and if she wanted to act like a fool, she would.

After parking her car, she made her way up to the club, which wouldn't be open to others for another hour. Security was already setting up out front; they gave her a nod in hello as she passed them by; they were all familiar with her by now. She was thankful that Thea wasn't at the club yet and quickly made her way to the door leading downstairs, plugging in the code and pulling it closed behind her before she started down the metal stairs. She smiled at the quiet of the room. Neither Oliver nor John were there yet, but the lights were on and her computers were waiting for her. She gave a sigh of relief as she sunk into her chair and turned it to face her multi-screen set-up, quickly becoming immersed in updates and on-going searches.

Nearly an hour passed with little more than her fingers click-clacking on the keyboard before the door opened above, admitting the other two parts of Team Arrow. She didn't turn to meet them; partly because she was so involved in what she was doing, and partly because sometimes it was hard to tear her eyes off of him. It was difficult to go from seeing someone every day to barely seeing them at all, even if her heart tore a little each time he was close.

"Somebody looks busy," John said as he walked toward her.

She very slowly, and with much effort, tore her eyes from her screens to look up at him.

He offered a half-smile, reassuring and comforting, and squeezed a hand around her shoulder.

"Somebody has an auspicious lead on a high-end bad guy for you two to play vigilante warfare with."

His brows hiked. "Sounds promising."

"Hence the use of 'auspicious.'" She wagged a finger as she turned her chair to face him better. "And no, that's not because I just got a word of the day calendar to furnish my office."

His lips twitched, amused. "So who is he?" he wondered, crossing his arms over his chest.

She leaned back and, with a few clicks, brought a picture up. "Allen Warren. He runs a security outfit that is _raking _it in. For the last couple years, he's been using what happened in the Glades to scare customers into updating their security. It was mostly just a money-grab. The more afraid they are, the more they're willing to spend. But recently, since the streets have been cleaned up more than usual, fear has gone down. Which is why Mr. Warren took it upon himself to start bringing fear back around…"

Turning back to her computer, she grabbed her mouse and started bringing up clip after clip from newspapers and online blogs. "There's been a series of break-ins in some pretty rich buildings lately. They've all been on the lower levels, and carefully planned for the apartments that don't have his security _and _that are empty at the time of the robberies. This way his brand doesn't look bad, but he can also say that, given just how 'pro' these robberies look that his customers should definitely upgrade their systems with him. So not only is he getting new customers, he's gutting loyal customers."

She frowned, drumming her fingers on her desk. "Now, this would mostly just make him a really slimy businessman, except the last place they hit _wasn't_ empty…" She tapped a screen and brought up a video, the sound muted, of a woman sobbing into a handkerchief as she was held up by what appeared to be her father. "Rebecca Height, 26. She and her husband came home early from an art show and walked in on a robbery in progress. They rushed the couple to escape and Eric, thinking they might hurt him or his wife, attacked back. He was shot three times in the chest, died before the ambulance was even called... Because Eric tried to defend them, the insurance company is saying his death was his own fault and refuses to pay her out anything. Allen Warren is using her as a shining endorsement for why the rest of the building should sign up with his security company."

Clucking her tongue, she turned to face him, finding Oliver not far away. "We can't let him keep this up. It's not fair, and he's putting people in serious danger."

Solemnly, John nodded his head, taking on the 'soldier with a purpose' look she was used to.

Oliver walked forward then, closer than he often got in the last couple weeks. "I know Warren. He spends a lot of time at high-society parties, looking for new customers."

She pointed at him and then looked back at her computer. "Exactly. Which is why the timing is kind of perfect… Instead of going to a party, he's throwing one himself. Thanks to his recent foray into crime, he's pulling in some serious money, and he's decided to show it off a little. _Sooo…_" She clicked a few things on her computer and brought up an email in her own inbox that was being sent out to Starling City's elite. "I received this yesterday morning. I was just going to junk it before I realized the golden ticket for what it was…" She spun in her chair once more to face them. "Oliver Queen's been invited to Allen Warren's new, and completely over the top, mansion for a little soirée of the most boring kind. Dancing, champagne, five course meal, and a whole lot of bragging… Oh, and on the side, you can sneak into his office and get at his personal hard drive, so I can pick apart his life and get the proof needed to show that he's a weasel who caused the unnecessary death of an innocent person."

He stared down at her a long moment, his gaze intense and lingering. "Why'd the email go to you?" he asked.

She swallowed tightly, surprised by the question. "Because… as far as Starling City is still concerned, you and I are still together. Which means going through me is easier than trying to get the new assistant to solidify plans." Shoulders rigid, she turned back to her computer. "Like I said, I was going to junk it until I realized how important it was."

She could almost hear the muscle ticking in his cheek.

"This is good," John said simply. "Easier than trying to get past his outside security on top of it. We can bypass the worst of it." He nodded, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Do you have schematics on the house?"

She nodded. "Because it was recently up for sale, I was able to access the realtor's records. I have the blueprints on the whole place. I have a good idea where I think his office is, which isn't too far from the ball room he'll be throwing the party in. We've got a little over a week to plan; it's not much, but I think it's enough. What do you guys think?"

She looked over her shoulder to find John and Oliver having a silent conversation, before finally they both nodded; they'd do it.

With their agreement, she brought up the schematics and soon John was buried in them. With his background, he was able to say where they would put security and how easy it would be to bypass who and where. While he was busy, Felicity moved toward Oliver, who was going over the papers she'd printed of the recent break in's.

She tugged on her fingers nervously. This was the first time she was initiating contact and her stomach twisted and turned as she walked closer. Her feet were silent, no click-clack of her heels, her panda flats barely making a noise. But he lifted his head a little, as if he felt her approach. One month and four days ago, she would've slid her arms around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. But not now.

"Oliver?"

He turned to her, his hand squeezing tightly around the pen in his hand, before he released and let it drop to the table. He stared at her uncertainly, as if he hadn't been expecting her and he wasn't sure what to do. It was rare that Oliver looked at a loss, but there was something boyish and sad about him now. He eyed her carefully, like a dog worried it would be kicked.

"Hi," he offered.

She nodded her head in silent hello. "Cynthia came to talk to me."

His brow furrowed and his eyes fell in that way that told her he was searching his memory for the face attached to that name.

"Cynthia… your assistant… Red hair, funky glasses, getting tired of you glaring at her…" She waved her arms. "Ringing any bells?"

His lips pursed as he met her gaze once more. "I know who it is, I just didn't know her first time…"

"What do you usually call her?"

His eyes darted away and with a sheepish expression, he admitted, "I don't call her anything. I just tell her what I need done."

Her head tipped, brows hiked. As her hands found her hips, his lips twitched, and she realized she was taking on a familiar pose, one she often used when about to chastise him for something or another.

Sighing, she shook her head. "Oliver, she's threatening to quit… And don't shrug at me!" She pointed at him. "This is your third assistant. You can't keep scaring them off."

"I'm not," he grunted. "It's not my fault if they can't keep up."

Licking her lips, she took a step forward, her hand falling to his forearm, more out of habit than anything. Tipping her head up, she stared at him earnestly. "I know this is difficult for you… Things are changing and it's hard to adjust. But you need an assistant, you need someone to rely on."

He swallowed thickly, staring down at her. "I had that," he said quietly. "And I ruined it."

Her heart clenched hard in her chest. "Oliver…"

"I know you won't come back." He shook his head, casting his eyes up as he struggled with himself for a moment. He inhaled deeply and finally met her eyes again. "But every day I have to look at your desk and _not _see you… and it just reminds me that I did this. I ruined this. And I get angry. Not at them, at me, but then they're there and they're trying to fill your shoes, and they can't, so I lash out. I know that."

She blinked, a little surprised about how, well, _honest_ he was being, and how aware he was of his own actions. There had been many times in the past where she had to force Oliver to see what he was doing and the reason behind it. He could be pigheaded, that was for sure, but he seemed to be fully aware of what he was doing and why it was happening.

"I know they call you… I know when she— when _Cynthia _came in today with tea, that wasn't her. That wasn't her solution, it was yours…" He looked down at her hand on his arm and he ground his teeth. "It wasn't the tea that calmed me down; it was knowing you still cared… even a little bit."

She blinked quickly and cast her eyes away. "I'll _always_ care," she murmured.

"You just won't always be there."

She looked up at him abruptly, her brows knit. "I can't… I can't be the one getting you your coffee or calming you down. I can't be that close to you every day…" She shook her head. "I'm trying really hard to be okay, and I need you to try too."

His jaw flexed. "I am."

"You need to stop treating Cynthia like this is her fault. She has no idea why you're acting like this. She thinks you hate her."

"I hate what she represents."

She stared up at him. "Direct it somewhere else. Cynthia is my choice. She'll stay on and you'll treat her with as much respect as you would—" She stopped herself before she could say 'me,' but she couldn't come up with a good replacement in time and Oliver caught on.

Pain slashed over his face. "You," he said. "Except I didn't. I ruined your trust and disrespected you in the worst way I could…" He nodded, looking defeated.

Biting her lip, she shook her head. "Please? Will you just give her a chance?"

He didn't answer right away, but eventually gave her a short nod.

"Felicity?" John called, drawing her attention.

She turned to him, and he waved a hand to bring her over.

She moved to leave, but Oliver stilled her, a hand on her hip, warm and large. His thumb stroked gently, absently, and as much as she enjoyed it, she knew she had to stop him. She reached for his hand, but hers only fell, covering his for a moment. There were times when all she did was trace the lines on his hands, dragging her soft fingertips over the callused pads of his, teasing the edges of his palm, his knuckles, the scars that littered his skin, before finally resting her fingers on his pulse, feeling it thrum steadily. Not this time though. Not ever again.

She waited for him to say something, anything, but he didn't. Instead, he leaned forward and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I've missed you," he breathed, his lips brushing her skin. "I know I don't deserve to, and I know you're only talking to me because of Cynthia and this mission… But I miss you."

She closed her eyes, and her lips from returning the sentiment. She squeezed his hand just once and then she pulled it from her hip and walked away. She crossed the room quickly and joined John in going over the information she'd gathered. She put Oliver and that whole confusing mess on the back burner. He didn't touch her again that night, and he didn't talk to her directly, but she could feel his eyes following her, drinking her in.

Later, when he left to dress for his patrol, she slipped away like she always did. She went home and she ate ice cream and she curled up on her couch and told herself she'd only watch one episode of Doctor Who. But it was an excuse. She was still the same broken mess as she was before, and one month hadn't changed that. Like nearly every night before, she slept on the couch to avoid how often she rolled over, searching for him in her half-asleep state.

Happy non-iversary to her.

* * *

The following morning, Felicity was running late. She'd overslept and the couch had left her body achy. Worse, the hot water in her shower ran out before she was done, her hair dryer died, she couldn't find her flats anywhere and had to wear a particularly pinchy pair of heels, and she didn't have time to stop for her usual cup of coffee.

To say she was in a bad mood was an understatement.

Hurrying to work, she only hoped that the topper wouldn't be that it was the day Cynthia put in her letter of resignation.

As soon as she stepped into her office, she saw the tall cup of coffee steaming away on her desk. Confused, she dropped her bag in a chair and circled her desk. Wrapping her hand around the cup, she raised it, finding a sticky-note attached with Oliver's familiar scrawl across it.

_Be my plus one?_

It wouldn't be the day Cynthia quit, she decided. Oh no, it'd be the day she killed Oliver Queen.

[**Next**: Part Two.]

* * *

**Author's Note**: _So this is a two-parter! Yay. It was only supposed to be a one-shot, but it has a longer plot and I realized it would be almost 20,000 words if I didn't break it up. There's a lot of Felicity/Oliver in the second half, so be excited for that. This won't be the last part of this series though; there's a lot more to come. _

_I hope I was able to translate the importance of the kick-boxing, because it's meant to be a form of therapy for her. It's kind of a nice contrast actually. Oliver, who's usually more physical, is seeing a counselor, sitting down to work through his issues. Felicity, who is usually more verbal, is physically fighting what she perceives to be her weakness._

_Also, because I've had a lot of people ask, Felicity and Laurel will be talking about what happened. Not in this part, but in another one; it's actually going to happen in the last part of the series, which is a multi-chapter. So it's coming, have no fear!_

_Anyway, I hope you guys liked this! I'm excited to share the second half with you. :) _

_Please leave a review! It means the world to me!_

_Thank you,_

- **Lee | Fina**


	2. Slim Chance

**Title**: Every whisper, every sigh (eats away this heart of mine)  
**Series**: Broken Hearts and Betrayal  
**Category**: Arrow  
**Genre**: Angst/Romance  
**Ship**: Felicity/Oliver  
**Rating**: Teen/PG-13  
**Word Count**: 4,892  
**Summary**: "If I have no chance, if you're really done with me… Say the word. I'll respect it. I'll stop trying to fix it. Just tell me you're done… Because if you don't, I'm not going to give up on you."

**Previous**: When they ask me if I regret it (I'll lie and say I do), I really fucked it up this time (didn't I, my dear?), I saved you every time (I was a fool for love), Things cannot be reversed (we learn from times we are cursed),

**_Every whisper, every sigh (eats away this heart of mine)  
_**-2/3-

**II**.

Oliver heard her coming long before he saw her. It helped, of course, that he was waiting for her. The quick staccato of her heels informed him that his sticky-note was not well-received; he wasn't so dense that he expected it would be. That wasn't to say he wasn't dense, because, well, he certainly could be, but, while most wouldn't believe it, he knew what he was doing.

Felicity bypassed his assistant entirely, not even bothering to pause and calmly ask if he was free. She shot right past… Her name escaped him. Jessica? In any case, Felicity didn't offer so much as a hello before she threw his doors open and stalked into his office. She was visibly shaking, veritably vibrating with her anger. She held his sticky note up between her fingers and glared down at him. "What. Is. _This?_"

He took a second, calmly sitting forward at his desk, resting his elbows on the table. "I know what you're thinking…" he started.

"What I'm _thinking?_ You should be worried about what I'm going to _do_!" she half-shouted. "Because if this is any indication of you giving me space—"

"I'm not trying to force you to be comfortable with me… Or at least, that's not my intention. I just thought it made sense that you be there, for the tech part of this mission." He shuffled some papers on his desk, keeping his gaze down. "You're always saying I exclude you from missions, so…"

A choked noise escaped her throat. "Now? Now is when you decide not to exclude me from missions?" She started tapping her foot, her hands falling to her hips, above the flare of her floral skirt in a bright, eye-catching fuchsia, the same color she'd painted her nails.

He found himself briefly distracted. His mind drifted to nights he spent sitting on her couch, his tie pulled loose, looking over papers for his white collar job while she balanced a foot on her coffee table, painting her toes to match whatever outfit she'd already picked out for the next day. And then she'd test her lipsticks, applying one after the other, trying to find just the right shade. She'd lean over, pressing a kiss to his cheek, leaving him with the lip imprint of a half-dozen different lipsticks until she found the right one. It never failed to help him de-stress from the overwhelming pressure of being CEO.

He missed that.

He missed a lot of things.

Giving his head a faint shake, he focused on the here and now, on the bristling woman in front of him, ready to tear him a new one.

"It would be easier… If we sneak off somewhere, it wouldn't be the first time someone found us in a hall somewhere, readjusting clothes. They'd just assume we were taking some time away from the party. You can sneak in, download whatever you need, and we can return with no one the wiser… It's a good cover. You should know, you've used the excuse a hundred times before."

Her jaw ticked as she turned her eyes away. Drawing in a deep breath, she reached up and pinched the bridge of her nose. She took a few seconds, which he could hear her counting under her breath, before finally clasping her hands together. She pressed her forefingers together against her lips, set in a firm line. "That was _before_…" She met his eyes once more. "Oliver… Have you even told anyone?"

He clenched his teeth, his gaze dropping away.

"Thea keeps calling me. She wants to know why I haven't been to dinner…" She stared at him expectantly. "Your assistants all think we're still dating, which I'm sure the lunch orders don't help. I-I still get emails, phone calls, trying to invite us to events together…"

He rocked back in his seat, reaching up to adjust his tie, suddenly feeling like a noose was tightening around his neck. Clearing his throat, he glanced at her briefly. "I haven't told anyone. I…" He licked his lips, shaking his head to himself. He'd gone over this. Repeatedly. He'd sat down with his therapist and explained the issues he was having with Felicity, how he'd messed up, and why he wanted to fix it. Clarity. He needed clarity. So he talked and he talked and he waited for his therapist to give him the big clue, the answer to all of his problems, but all he got was more questions, more searching, more _why_.

However, seeing Felicity now, with her bright lipstick and nail polish and the skirt of her dress. Seeing her look at him with confusion and anger, the abject sadness that had been cloaking her eyes for so long now still very much present, he realized that he'd been avoiding a very clear truth. "If I tell them that we're over, then it's real… If I tell Thea that I messed this up, then I can't fix it. I've run out of time. And I don't want to face that yet," he finally admitted, both to her and to himself.

She stared at him a long moment, and he could see the anger leech from her, leaving her shoulders slumped a little, righteous indignation slipping away. But she had every right to it.

Standing, he shook his head. "I know it was wrong. I know I shouldn't be pushing for you to spend time with me. And I know you have every right to be upset with me… But when you're around me, I… I miss you. I miss everything about you." His throat tightened painfully and he swallowed, trying to push past the emotion lodged there. "I know it's not fair. I shouldn't make you feel bad about it because it's not your fault. It's mine. But I… Every day, I can feel something missing. And then I see you at night, and I know it's you. I don't have you like I used to and I can feel it. I can feel a very vital part of my life is almost completely gone and it's taking everything inside of me not to _beg _you to give me another chance."

Her mouth opened, but no words escaped, she merely blinked a few times, clasping her hands in front of her, gripping her fingers tight.

"We worked as partners before… We were a team. And if I can't be with you the way I want to, I at least want to know that I'm not losing you completely. So please… Just let me lie to myself a little longer."

She raised her eyes to meet his, looking wary. But after biting her lip for a long moment, she finally said, "It's not a date."

He sighed, relief flooding through him, and gave a sharp, agreeable nod. "Okay."

"We'll go as partners, we'll do this job, and we'll leave…" She waved a finger at him. "So do not pull your charming, rich, handsome… _thing_."

His lips twitched, but he nodded again.

With a huff of a sigh, she turned on her heel. "Pick me up at 6." She started walking away, before pausing and calling back, "And be nice to Cynthia. Like, buy her a coffee, apologize for your behaviour, and offer to grovel at her feet for making her doubt herself, nice. I mean it!"

He didn't manage to hide the smile that crept over his lips then and ducked his head a little as he chuckled under his breath. "I will."

"Good." She walked out the door with all the fire she'd bore walking through it. Like a whirlwind, she came in, turned everything on its head, and walked out.

He watched her leave, the tight fabric of the black top of her dress with its cap sleeves hugged her attractively, while the skirt bounced against her legs. She was beautiful. Bright and unique and eye-catching. As usual, it was hard to take his eyes off her, but she was no longer sitting at the desk in front of his office, an easy distraction to a long and boring day. Instead, she was out of reach, disappearing behind the doors of an elevator to return to her job eighteen floors away. He was tempted to annoy her again that day, just to have her come back, to hear her voice and see her face.

When he said he missed her, it was an understatement. Sometimes he had trouble remembering how he operated without her there. So much of his life had been tied to hers so completely that he wasn't sure what to do with himself. There were routines that had been set up, things he was familiar with and that he enjoyed, and he didn't have them anymore. Now he had a semi-unfamiliar face at her desk, an empty bed, and a space at his side that was empty, upsettingly void of the presence he desperately wished would come back.

"Mr. Queen?"

His eyes shot to the door once more to see Cynthia standing there, her chin raised with a telling show of stubborn strength. "We need to go over your schedule."

"After," he said briskly.

She blinked. "After?"

He nodded shortly. "After I take your for coffee, and apologize for my behaviour." He reached back for his jacket before he walked toward her, amused by her stunned expression. "Felicity hired you personally, didn't she?"

"Uh, um, y-yes, she did."

He nodded. "She's a great judge of character, and I apologize for not appreciating you as much as you deserve. I'll do my best to be better in future."

"O-Oh…" Her brow furrowed as she stepped out of his office, a few steps behind him. "Well, that's… That's nice to hear."

"Do you like coffee, Cynthia? Or do you prefer tea?" he wondered, walking toward the elevator, his head tipped. "I like to reserve tea for special occasions, days that just aren't going well. But I'm having a pretty good morning so far… What do you think?"

She offered a confused smile, still trying to catch up to his mood swing. "I- I'm partial to lattes."

"Latte it is," he agreed cheerfully.

As they rode the elevator down to the main floor, he tried not to smile at the way she stared at him from the corner of her eyes, trying to guess his angle. Admittedly, he hadn't been a very good boss to her, but that wasn't her fault. That was his own expectations being destroyed. She wasn't Felicity, and she couldn't be. If she had tried, he would've been even worse to her, because Felicity wasn't replaceable. She wasn't someone others could emulate in any fashion. Cynthia was a qualified, hard-working assistant though, and he needed to stop treating her like an interloper.

While coffee wasn't much of an apology, he hoped they might start over. He didn't imagine he'd end up groveling; there was only one woman he would toss away his pride for in order to gain forgiveness from and she wasn't yet ready for him to do that. But he wouldn't let that darken his mood. Felicity might not be ready to forgive him, but she was willing to be his (non-)date to Warren's house-warming party. He would take what he could get and build on it from there.

* * *

"You're being honest with her?"

Oliver glanced at the woman across from him – mid-fifties, dark hair that was only finely touched with silver, wrinkles around her eyes that bespoke of laughter, and a twitch at the corner of her mouth that gave away when she was amused by him. Her name was Joanna. He'd researched her heavily before he took an appointment with her, and even then he kept the details of certain aspects of his life deeply hidden. But this, Felicity and Laurel and the women who had come and gone from his life, they were open game.

"Felicity demands honesty…" He frowned. "Not that Laurel didn't ask for it, and sometimes I tried to, but… There were parts of me that she wasn't prepared to know."

Joanna raised an eyebrow curiously. "And Felicity was?"

He held his hand up, palms raised. "Felicity knows all of me. I trusted her sooner than I ever expected to… More than I thought I could."

"So you showed her sides of yourself that you were ashamed of? That you didn't think Laurel could understand?"

He blinked, opening his mouth to answer, and then paused, letting her words linger and resonate. "I'm not sure I was ashamed of them. I was… I accepted that I am who I am. There's no going back, no changing me."

"So you're the same man who came back from the island then? You haven't changed since you returned?"

He let out a heavy breath, his brow furrowed tightly. "I… have…" It was hard sometimes, having the things he believed, the statements he made, questioned. He had to turn around his thinking, his understanding of himself, at every turn. "I was more jaded, angrier… I'm not sure I was a good person when I got back."

There was a beat that passed before she asked, "And now?"

He raised his chin rather proudly, an eyebrow arching as he told her, "Now I'm trying to be better."

"So what made it different? Why did Felicity get to know you at your worst, and not Laurel?"

He frowned. "I needed Felicity… I needed her help, her skills, and the closer she got to me, the more it made sense to show more of myself to her."

"Did you need her, or did you want her there?"

He thought back to when he'd gone to her for help, when he'd brought leads to her so she would track down what he was looking for. Had he needed her help? He'd been making it by without her; he had resources and skills of his own that could have kept him going. But it was easier, wasn't it? To use Felicity's brilliance instead of accessing any of his own. Or was that an excuse…?

He liked Felicity from the moment he met her. For the first time since he left Lian Yu, the first time since he talked to someone, he'd smiled genuinely. It wasn't that his family hadn't hit him with a rush of love and appreciation. But genuine humor, lighthearted and much-needed, had washed over him abruptly when he had Felicity Smoak looking up at him, not at all buying what he was selling. He liked that. He liked that she let him know she didn't believe his terrible lie about a latte and a bad neighborhood. But she still helped. Because that's who Felicity was. She wanted to help. She'd proven that time and time again.

"I wanted her there. I… I saw something in her that was missing in my life."

His eyes darted back and forth as he thought back to the way she looked, so young and sweet with her pink blouse and bright lipstick. She'd been so untouched by the darkness he'd seen in the world, and it felt like a beacon, lighting the way to something better. He'd just been too blind to see it for what it was then.

"Laurel reminded me of everything before the island, my past, who I was… Someone I still thought I wanted to be, in some ways. Felicity was new, she was different, she was… She _is _my future."

Joanna stared at him a long moment, her face carefully blank, and then she gave a short nod. "Have you ever told her that?"

"Of course, I…" He frowned. "Maybe not in those words. But she knew."

"How?"

He shrugged. "It was obvious."

"To whom?"

"Everybody," he said simply, an incredulous laugh leaving him. "Even before Felicity and I were together; there was no me without her. We were inseparable."

She hummed, in that aggravating way of hers that told him he was wrong, he was missing something. If he could arrow it, he would. Not her, just that mocking hum of hers.

"Do you know what happens when people rely on what's obvious?"

He shook his head.

"It becomes unsaid… So what's obvious to you, when it's never talked about, is only clear to you. Maybe other people saw it, maybe it seemed very blatant to everyone outside of you. But Felicity wasn't on the outside looking in. She wasn't an objective viewer. She was in the middle of it, and if she was never told she was special, that she was loved and needed, then how was she to know?"

"She knows me better than anyone."

"Oliver, we've been meeting for nearly five weeks now, and do you know what I've learned in that time?"

"That I'm extremely stubborn and secretive."

"Obnoxiously so," she agreed glibly. "But, more than that, I've learned that what really matters to you, you keep close. You play your cards so close to your vest that I have to pry the answers from you. I have to keep asking, keep leading, until you finally voice what's going on. And half the time you don't. Half the time you keep what you've realized to yourself. Maybe that's something you learned on the island; some deep-seated fear of trusting anyone. We'll discuss that another time, when you're more willing to talk about the island. But for now I can tell you that taking that approach to a relationship is a sure way to destroy it. You have to be honest about your feelings. You have to tell your partner when you love them. Even if it scares you, when rejection could be imminent. Because keeping it to yourself doesn't keep you safe, it just keeps you from receiving that same love in return."

"Felicity loves me," he replied surely, quickly. "She's angry with me, and she might never forgive me, but she loves me. She told me every day."

Slowly, Joanna smiled.

And Oliver let out a faint, bitter laugh. "She told me every day," he repeated.

"And how often did you tell her you loved her?" she wondered.

He swallowed thickly, sitting back in his chair. With a faint shake of his head, he murmured, "Not often enough."

* * *

"Six."

Oliver paused, the front door still open. "Hello to you too, Thea," he replied, stepping further into the house and closing the door behind him. "Is this a guessing game? Because you're cold. Six is a long way off from what I was thinking…"

She rolled her eyes and walked toward him, arms crossed over her chest, a stubborn, demanding look on her face that he knew all too well. "Six times I've called Felicity and they all went to voicemail. So either you're overworking her, or she's avoiding me." Eyebrow raised, she reached across and poked him in the chest. "So? _Spill_. Which one is it?"

Casting his eyes away, he took a moment, grinding his teeth. Apparently reality was not willing to wait for him to continue to embrace denial. "She's probably avoiding you… Not because she wants to but because she's not up to the inevitable conversation."

Shrugging his jacket off, he started walking away, well aware that she would be following him as he made his way to the parlor, in need of a strong drink. That inevitable conversation was at his heels, and, unfortunately, he couldn't just push the ignore button and deal with it at a later date.

"Okay, and we're dancing around the subject, because _why_...?"

He sighed, pouring himself a tumbler of scotch.

She tapped her foot impatiently. "Well? _What _conversation are we talking about here?"

He swirled his cup, watching the amber liquid dance. "When's the last time Felicity skipped a family dinner?"

"I don't know… Food poisoning, like four months ago. Other than that, she was probably the root cause for why you actually made it to so many," she snorted.

He tapped his fingers against his glass anxiously. "She was good at that… Reminding me what was important, keeping me on track."

There was a pause before Thea laughed uncertainly. "What do you mean '_was'_?"

Oliver knocked back his tumbler of scotch and poured himself a second. With a forced smile, he turned to look at her. "She broke up with me… A month ago."

Thea stared at him, wide-eyed, before blinking rapidly in confusion. "Wait… _What?_"

He swallowed thickly, turning his gaze down to his cup, gripping it so tightly he was surprised the glass hadn't shattered.

"Ollie?" she murmured, taking a few steps closer, her voice softer now. "What happened? I thought… You guys were doing so well, I mean… You were _happy_…"

He closed his eyes, a muscle ticking in his cheek. "I have a knack for ruining things when they're good for me; you should know that by now. It's a lifelong pattern I just keep improving."

She sighed. "Explain."

He took a moment to gather his thoughts, to brace for the expected lash out. "Laurel," he whispered, regret and pain fluid through that one word, that one name, that had haunted him for so long now.

Thea didn't reply, and it took a good portion of his strength to open his eyes and see her reaction. He was expecting anger, outrage, complete and utter disgust. Because she'd genuinely liked Felicity. How many times had she told him he was lucky Felicity gave him a chance? How many times had she teased him about breaking out the family engagement ring from the vault? How many times had she warned him not to screw it up? That this one was special.

But what he was expecting, he didn't get.

Instead there was a mix of pity, disappointment, and defeat that clouded her features. With a shake of her head, Thea made sure he knew just how tired she was of this cycle.

"She was upset—"

Thea snorted. "Is that an excuse?"

His brow furrowed. "She was confused and emotional about her break-up… She wanted to be sure she was over me."

"And you were the white knight who stepped in to save her… Surprise, surprise."

"It wasn't like that," he denied.

"What was it like then?" Thea glared at him, a spark of anger finally lighting her eyes. "Because this sounds like the same old tune, Oliver. You and Laurel and this overplayed back and forth. She cries, you go running. What's the difference?"

His voice rose as he defended himself. "She came to me. I wasn't looking for her. I was expecting Felicity. I… I _wanted_ Felicity."

She wasn't the least big moved, instead asking scathingly, "So what happened? You tripped over Laurel's sob story and into her bed?"

"No, of course not. I— We— She kissed me." He shook his head. "That's it. She kissed me to prove to herself that we were over and…"

"And Felicity saw," she said knowingly, letting out a scoff under her breath. "Wow. So not only do you have poor judgement, but your timing is even worse."

He frowned down at her. "I never wanted any of this."

"Well, what'd the kiss prove?" she asked, ignoring him.

His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"It was important, right? Some big thing where Laurel was relieved of the '_terrible burden_' of not knowing whether you and her were meant for each other…" she said mockingly. "So what grand insight did you gain from it? _Hm?_ Was there a spark? Did a little bit of you like it? Did you think, just for a second, that it felt right? _What_?"

He clenched his teeth and shook his head. "No. It wasn't like that for me. I didn't feel anything."

"Nothing at all?" She raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "All these years, all that history, and you didn't feel anything when she kissed you?"

"I told you… It wasn't like that for me. I'm not in love with Laurel anymore. I haven't been for a while."

"So why? I don't get it, tell me _why_ you thought it made sense to kiss her." She threw her hands up. "You've got an amazing woman who I _know _you're crazy in love with… Why throw that away?"

He swallowed tightly and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I didn't think I was. I… I wasn't expecting Laurel to do that. I'm happy with Felicity. I just thought… I felt like I owed it to Laurel and I thought if I let her do it she would see that we were over and she could move on. It was stupid, but… I felt bad for her. She was still holding on to what we were, to this idea of what we could be, and I'd already moved on."

"So _tell _her that!" Thea exclaimed. "You don't need a kiss to prove anything. This isn't a movie, okay!? You don't owe her _anything! _You tell her that you're sorry she has doubts, but _you _don't. You've moved on, you're with someone you love, and you don't want to risk that." She shook her head. "I don't get it. I don't understand why you do this to yourself! After everything that's happened to you, everything you've been through, you just keep chasing the one person you know is only going to hurt you in the end. And yeah, okay, maybe she isn't doing it on purpose, but for God's sake, Ollie… The pattern's pretty damn obvious at this point."

"I know that…. I know what this looks like. But I'm telling you, Thea, I don't want to be with Laurel."

"Yeah, well, you should've used your words before she laid one on you." Brows hiked, she let out a heavy sigh, and shook her head. "So what does this mean then, for you and Felicity? She's not returning my calls, not coming to family dinners, so what…? Did I lose a friend in the divorce?" she snarked.

He shook his head. "I'm sure she just wasn't sure how to talk to you… I haven't told many people and she wasn't sure what to say."

"Who's 'many people'?"

He pursed his lips. "Only you and Diggle know."

She blinked at him. "You've been broken up for a month and the only people who know are your bodyguard and your little sister…?" She raised an eyebrow. "How the hell did you keep it this quiet?"

"She wasn't exactly running to the tabloids," he muttered dismissively. "She's left her position as my executive assistant and she's back in IT… We're working up to being friends again."

A snort answered him. 'You honestly think you can go back to being friends with her?"

"No," he answered honestly. "I've tried to give her space and the only thing that's accomplished is making me miss her…"

"Okay, so what's the plan?"

He arched an eyebrow.

With an eye-roll, she crossed her arms over her chest. "Don't give me that. I know you've got something up your sleeve. Obviously you don't _want _to be broken up, so what are you doing to win her back?"

He shifted his feet for a moment, as if considering how much he wanted to tell her, and then finally admitted, "I convinced her to be my date to a house warming party this Friday… I'm going to try and remind her that we were good together, and hopefully get her to listen to me for once. She hasn't let me explain what happened, not enough anyway."

"How sure are you that this'll work?"

"I have to start somewhere." He shrugged. "I can't push too hard or I'll lose her completely. I have to be careful, work up to it, gain her trust again."

"Sounds like you'll have your hands full."

He managed a half-smile. "She's worth it."

Thea nodded. "She is." With that, she swiped his scotch and downed it. Handing him back his empty glass, she declared, "Well, now that I know why she's ignoring me, I think this calls for a Girl's Night." Turning on her heel, she started for the door, hips swaying with her usual confidence. "Just so we're clear… I don't approve of what happened. What you did with Laurel, completely low..."

He nodded slowly.

"But you're still my brother, and I want you to be happy… Now, in my personal opinion, Felicity is a much better choice for you. And I hope she can find it in herself to forgive you, because you'd be a complete tool for losing her over something so stupid."

He struggled with asking her, not sure if he wanted the truth, but finally managed to say, "Do you think she will?"

Thea's eyes wandered away thoughtfully. "She loves you, but… she's smart. And, if we're coming from this at a logical angle…" She shook her head. "Your track record makes you a high risk for having her heart stomped on again."

He winced, turning his gaze down.

"Then again, she tends to lead with her heart when it comes to you. So, who knows… maybe you've got a chance after all." With an encouraging half-smile, she turned and walked away, leaving him to ponder her parting words.

He hoped she was right. It was a slim chance, but he was going to hold onto it as tightly as he could.

[**Next**: Part III.]

* * *

**Author's Note**: _Originally, yeah, this was going to be a two-shot, but I wanted to flesh out a few things, so I decided to make it into a three-parter... unless further fleshing out makes it a four-parter, lol. _

_Anyway, I hope you liked this. The next part is a lot more Olicity-centric, but I did want to get a peek at Oliver's therapy and to bring in Thea, who was just awesome so write. _

_Please leave a review; they keep me writing._

_Thanks for reading!_

- **Lee | Fina**


	3. Words Unsaid

**Title**: Every whisper, every sigh (eats away this heart of mine)  
**Series**: Broken Hearts and Betrayal  
**Category**: Arrow  
**Genre**: Angst/Romance  
**Ship**: Felicity/Oliver  
**Rating**: Teen/PG-13  
**Word Count**: 5,967  
**Summary**: "If I have no chance, if you're really done with me… Say the word. I'll respect it. I'll stop trying to fix it. Just tell me you're done… Because if you don't, I'm not going to give up on you."

**Previous**: When they ask me if I regret it (I'll lie and say I do), I really fucked it up this time (didn't I, my dear?), I saved you every time (I was a fool for love), Things cannot be reversed (we learn from times we are cursed),

**_Every whisper, every sigh (eats away this heart of mine)  
_**-3/4-

**III**.

"Remind me again why I'm doing this," Felicity called from the bathroom as she braced her hands on the sink, her stomach twisting and turning.

"Beats me. I said you should make him go stag," Thea replied.

Faintly, Felicity smiled. "I don't think your brother would appreciate your lack of encouragement."

"Hey, he brought this on himself. I might be mentally planning your future wedding, but I can still root for you making him sweat."

Rolling her eyes, Felicity pushed off the sink and left her bathroom, walking into the living room to find Thea sitting in an armchair, leafing through a fashion magazine, one she brought with her, since Felicity could safely say her apartment had never seen the inside of a Vogue magazine prior to Thea's arrival in her life. "We talked about this… Oliver and I are over."

"Right. Which is why you're wearing really expensive lingerie and going on a date with him."

Blushing, she shifted her feet. "It's not a date. It's… a favor."

Scoffing, Thea raised an eyebrow. "And the lingerie?"

Defensively, she crossed her arms over her chest. "You can't wear just any old underwear with an evening gown."

"Speaking of…" She tossed her magazine to the coffee table and leaned back in her chair, looking up at Felicity expectantly. "I was promised a make-over. When do I get to play Cinna?"

Lips twitching, she shook her head. "It's a house-warming party. We're not going full-Capitol here."

"Fine. But I still get to do your hair and make-up, right?"

"Right," she agreed on a sigh, tightening the belt of her housecoat. "Just… go easy on me."

With a snort, Thea stood from her chair and walked toward her, a confident sway to her hips that Felicity only wished she could emulate.

"Come on…" Taking her by her shoulders, she turned her and walked her toward the dining room table, where her bevy of make-up and hair products was waiting. "By the time I'm done with you, he'll be weeping over his _seriously _stupid mistake."

Felicity shook her head, but let Thea lead her and sit her down in a chair.

Once Thea was in 'Cinna-mode,' she was all business. Forgotten was her motivation for prettying up Felicity; the only thing she cared about was making sure everything was just the way she wanted it. She curled Felicity's hair, combing through with her fingers to give each curl a more natural look as they fell down her shoulders. When she was finished with her hair, she moved on to her make-up, pinning her hair back carefully so it wouldn't get in the way. Felicity was a mostly quiet client; occasionally she would sigh or squirm in her seat so much that Thea glared at her and she felt she had to defend herself. For the most part, however, she let Thea do as she pleased and rather enjoyed being pampered.

It wasn't often that Felicity had any real time to relax and leave things in someone else's hands. She had two jobs and her boyfriend was a vigilante; down time was a non-existent concept. Even since returning to the IT Department and no longer having Oliver, she still had plenty to keep her busy. So it was nice to sit back and let Thea do all the work. She smiled as Thea gave her a manicure, painting her nails midnight blue. It was nice and relaxing, which is exactly what she needed, because thinking of the night to come already had her on edge.

Tonight she would be back on Oliver's arm, a familiar position, but an altogether different set of circumstances. It wasn't that this would be a mission, she'd been on plenty before, but she was worried that when they were out there, playing the couple shtick, she would forget that they weren't. She would get comfortable again and she would let herself fall back into that place beside him, where she'd once felt like she fit so completely.

"Those look like heavy thoughts… What's going on in your big brain?" Thea said, drawing her back to the moment.

"Nothing. I…" She shook her head. "I'm just nervous about tonight."

"What's there to be nervous about? It's a house-warming party for some douchey guy with too much money and an inferiority complex."

Felicity raised an eyebrow at the description.

"Listen, a guy doesn't buy a house that big unless he's trying to make up for something."

"Your brother lives in a huge mansion and he doesn't have anything to make up for," she replied automatically.

"Okay, one, _ew_. Two, _ew!_" She gave an exaggerated shudder before moving on. "And thirdly, he didn't buy the house, he just lives there to keep an eye on me. And let's not point out how a month ago, he spent most of his nights here, so he wasn't exactly calling Queen Manor _home_…" She shrugged, turning her attention back to Felicity's nails, where she was putting a last coat on. "Also, let's never talk about my brother's junk again. Like… _never_."

Amused, Felicity bit her lip as she smiled. "Sorry. No filter sometimes."

"Usually something I appreciate. Just not when it has anything to do with Ollie's…" She waved a hand and then made a gagging face. "No, ugh, I don't even want to think about it anymore."

She laughed lightly, shaking her head. "Fine. Change of subject. What are you doing tonight?"

"Me? Well, I'm the life of the party. I plan on putting on a movie and going over this month's numbers for Verdant. I figure a bottle of wine, some take-out, and a calculator; a date to remember."

"Roy's not helping?"

"Nah. He's working most of the night. Besides, it's nice to have a night to myself, even if I'll be spending it with my oldest enemy… _math_."

"Well, have a glass of wine for me."

Eyes wide, she replied, "Oh, I'll have a whole bottle."

Felicity chuckled, shoulders slumping in relief.

This was good. Just spending some time with Thea. She'd been making an effort not to avoid her since she came banging on her door with a pint of Ben and Jerry's, telling her they were going to have a girl's night in and talk about how much men royally sucked. It was a relief; as much as she had been avoiding Thea, it was partly out of fear of losing her completely. Now that she and Oliver were no longer dating, she worried that Thea wouldn't want to spend any time with her, and she figured she'd beat her to the punch. But, as it turned out, Thea wasn't so eager to lose a friend, and promptly told Felicity that was exactly what she was, whether she was dating Oliver or not.

"Okay, let those dry and then we'll see what glamorous dress you picked out." Winking, Thea stood from her seat, twisting the cap back on her nail polish and putting it away with the others before she added all of her make-up and hair supplies along with it. Frankly, Felicity was surprised she could carry such a large bag, and it didn't look light.

"We've got time. You wanna watch a movie or something?" Thea wondered, already wandering over to Felicity's overflowing stand of DVDs and Blu-rays.

"Sure," she agreed, standing to follow her, careful not to smudge her nails.

She took a seat on the couch and balanced her feet on the coffee table as Thea browsed. She decided she would just have to do her best not to freak out or overthink things. This was a job. They would go in, play their part, and sneak back to the office to get the information they wanted. That was it. When it was all finished, they would walk out and return to things as they were. She would put her dress away and strip off the glamour she'd once been so accustomed to. She'd tie her hair back up in a ponytail and return to her roots; brilliant IT extraordinaire.

Taking a deep breath, she gathered her courage and reassured herself that tonight would be simple.

…

Oliver was nervous. Sweaty palms, lead in his stomach, nervous. He wanted this. He needed this. Just a few hours of time with her. Even if it was going to be a job, if they would both be distracted with looking for the right time to break into Allen's office. He'd still have some time with her; time that he hadn't had in the last five weeks. He saw her in passing; she was there each night in the foundry, she was there for planning and execution of each mission, but gone were the nights they would steal away a few minutes for just each other. Gone were the times when she would watch him on the salmon ladder or ask him to train her just for the fun of having him pin her to the mats before she wrapped her legs around his waist and encouraged a different kind of exercise.

Still, it wasn't the sex he missed. It was the intimacy of having her in his life. It was reaching out and knowing her hand would be there to catch his, waking up and finding her there to wrap his arms around, going to bed each night with her heart under his ear, and coming back to the foundry after a mission to find her ready to patch up his wounds and wipe away the eye paint. There was a part of his life that felt remarkably empty, and it was shaped like Felicity.

He missed her rambling, her inappropriate comments, her excited tech speak, and her enthusiastic 'I just won the internet' fist-pump. And when she wasn't there, everything seemed so quiet. _Too _quiet. He'd grown comfortable with the noise of fingers on a keyboard and sleep-talking and her arguing with him when she thought (knew) he was wrong. He knew this was his fault; he knew that he should have done something more to avoid it, but he was still holding out hope that he could change her mind. If he could just show her things would be different; _he _would be different; then maybe she would give him another chance.

He reached for his keys when he climbed the stairs to her building, only to remember that he didn't have a key anymore. His jaw ticked as he stared at the one key he still had, the one to her apartment, even if she'd had the locks changed. He dragged his thumb over the spot of nail polish there and swallowed tightly.

Shaking his head abruptly, he turned, walking to the speaker on the wall and pushed the button beside her name, clearing his throat as he waited for her to answer.

"Thea Queen answering for Felicity Smoak, a tech geek's wet dream, what's up?"

He frowned. "Thea, it's Ollie. Buzz me up."

"What's the password?"

"_Thea_…"

"Nope. Strike one, try again."

He sighed. "Thea, we don't have time for this." He checked the watch on his wrist. "I'm already five minutes late."

"Well, maybe you shouldn't spend ten minutes in your car psyching yourself up next time. Which, by the way, _question_, where is your hunky bodyguard slash driver at anyway?"

"Busy. I'm perfectly capable of driving us."

"Touchy. I was just checking."

"You were also apparently spying on me from the window…" He rubbed a hand over his face, feeling a headache coming on. "Buzz me up. _Please_."

"You sound a little stressed, Ol… You sure you want to go out tonight? I mean, Felicity's _really_ rocking this dress. So it'd be your loss, but— Hey!"

A buzz suddenly interrupted and he reached for the door quickly. Apparently Felicity had finally intervened to let him in. He took the elevator up to her floor, fiddling with the cuffs of his suit jacket as he watched the numbers rise. He hated that he was nervous, but he couldn't help but feel like this was his last grab at convincing her they were good together. Despite the fact that it was a mission, if tonight didn't go well between them, he worried he might lose his chance with her completely.

Leaving the elevator, he walked down the hall to her apartment door and paused, readjusting his tie. Taking a deep breath, he finally raised his hand to knock. Just as his knuckles were inches from the door, however, it swung open.

Thea smirked at him. "Batter up." Swaggering past him, she tossed over her shoulder, "Remember. You're already one strike in and the pitcher is world class."

He frowned after her, but it had little effect.

"I'm almost ready," Felicity's voice reached him.

He turned to reply, but was struck silent at the sight of her.

She was stunning. Her hair fell in waves down her back, loose and shiny. Her make-up was light, pale pinks and faintly rosied cheeks. But it was her dress that really got him. Blue with a lace overlay that hugged her from the tops of her breasts to just below her hips, where the fabric loosened, falling to the floor in graceful pleats. Shiny sequins were sewn all over and they caught the light with each step she took. His eyes took her in from head to prettily painted toe, returning to her shoulders, one covered in a stretch of see-through blue fabric, while the other was left bare. Her arms were raised as she finished putting in a pair of square diamond earrings he recognized as a gift from her parents on her last birthday. The diamond tennis bracelet she wore on her left wrist was from him though. One of the many times he'd tried giving her presents on his birthday, despite her reminders that she should be buying him gifts, not the other way around.

"You're beautiful," he said, his voice strained.

She offered a light smile and walked toward him, pausing nearby as she reached for the black high heels sitting in wait. She slipped one foot in and then, more out of habit than anything, he was sure, she used his shoulder to steady herself as she slipped the other heel on. Grabbing a clutch from the table, she put her keys inside and checked she had everything before moving into the hall. He followed after her, waiting for her to lock the door, and then reached out to lay his hand on the small of her back as they started for the elevator. He felt her stiffen as soon as he touched her and ground his teeth as he drew his hand away, curling his fingers into his palm. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable; he just wished things weren't so strained between them. He used to touch her, long before they'd begun a relationship, but now it seemed there were these invisible barriers between them and they still felt so foreign to him.

Felicity was one of the first people he let into his personal space. She knocked his carefully set walls down and pushed herself into his inner-sanctum with far more guts than he'd given her credit for. And it had helped. He became comfortable with reaching out to her, touching her shoulder or arm, a hand on her back or cupping her cheek when he was worried. And when their relationship started, those barriers were all but gone. He was so used to having her close that not having her there felt off somehow.

"The invitation arrived yesterday," she said, trying to lighten the mood.

His brow furrowed. "I thought it was emailed to you."

"That was more of an RSVP email. Anybody who agreed to come got this over-the-top invitation in the mail. Since it's an attempt to bring in more customers, security will probably be low. He'll try to emphasize the idea that his security system is so good he doesn't need to hire bodies to cover everything. But the invites will help keep out people who weren't invited, plus they're a little flashy, and he seems to like stroking his own ego a little too much."

"Which turns out to be an advantage, at least in our case. While he's showing off, we can sneak in the back and you can work your tech mojo."

"These talented fingers are eager and ready." She paused, shook her head, and blinked rapidly. "Uh… You know what I meant."

His lips twitched and a warm flood of familiarity hit him. "I always do."

She stared at him out of the corner of her eyes and nodded, biting down on her lip. "Are you nervous? Because I've been trying to tell myself I'm not nervous all day and it's not working."

The elevator doors opened and he waited for her to step out before following.

Calmly, he asked, "What are you nervous about?"

Rolling her eyes, she scoffed. "Playing happy for the general public, for one."

He winced. "I'm sorry… I know it must be awkward for you.'

She opened the front door of the building and stepped out onto the stoop, lifting the bottom of her dress as she walked down the stairs toward his waiting car. His hand hovered close to, but not touching, her back, ready to help if she needed it, but aware of how much she wanted space between them.

"Awkward is a general state of being for me, usually, but this… This is a whole new plane. I mean… I know there's that old sentiment, 'we can still be friends,' but nobody ever means that. Nobody stays friends with their exes. And they definitely don't spend every night hanging out with them. Or go as their dates to, well, _anything_."

"I'm not sure we can be held up to the same standard as normal couples," he reminded, circling the car to open her door for her.

She gazed up at him as she folded into the passenger seat. "Some things were normal," she murmured.

He stared down at her, the soft, sad smile on her lips making his stomach twist painfully. He nodded faintly before he closed the car door and circled around to his side. He paused by the trunk, however, turning his eyes up to the sky and drawing a deep breath. He could do this. She wasn't going to make it easy, she shouldn't have to, but he wasn't going to waste his one chance just because the odds were set against him.

Getting into the car, he turned on the heat when he noticed her rubbing her hands and, as he pulled his seatbelt on, changed the radio station to one she usually listened to. It was habit now; it had been for a while. He didn't think anything of it until they were on the road and she was staring at the radio, her brow furrowed.

"What?" he asked, looking from her to the dial and then back to the road.

She shook her head. "Nothing. I just… I don't know. I guess I just thought you wouldn't do that anymore."

"Do what?"

"Adapt things to how I liked them…" She blinked rapidly and sat back in her seat. "I don't know why I'm getting emotional." She lifted her hands, pressing her palms to her cheeks. "This is probably why exes don't hang out together."

"Felicity, it's just a radio station."

"No. No, it isn't." She sniffled. "You did things like that all the time… You were just always so _aware_." She closed her eyes tightly and took a deep breath. "Before work, you'd pick up my favorite coffee. And I know it was just an inside joke about how I would never get you coffee, assistant or not, but you always got the order right. You even knew my favorite holiday drinks."

Oliver frowned, his hands flexing on the steering wheel. "I just wanted to you to be happy," he said quietly. "I like making you happy."

She tipped her head back, swiping carefully at her eyes. Swallowing thickly, she shook her head. "I don't know if I can do this."

His heart clenched in his chest and he slowed the car down, pulling it over to the side of the road. He let it idle and sat silently, struggling with the right words. Should he try to change her mind? Was that selfish? He tried to imagine what his therapist would say if he told her and he could already imagine that hum she would make, the disagreeable hum he hated so much.

"I can take you home," he said.

"The mission—"

"Doesn't matter." His jaw ticked as he cast his eyes down. "I can't blame you for being upset. I can't… I can't force you to be comfortable around me. I know that I did this. I know that you're…" His voice shook. "You're never really going to trust me, and that's my fault. What happened with Laurel, what I did… I can't make that go away. I can't take away how it felt for you to walk into that room. I just…" He clenched his teeth until it hurt. "I know it's unfair, but I can't lose you completely. I can't lose you at all. But if I can't have you with me… If you can't love me, then…" His eyes fell shut.

A phone rang then, shrill and demanding.

Felicity jumped in her seat, and then she laughed at herself, a faint, strained noise, before she dug in her clutch and pulled out her phone. "John, hey," she said into the phone. There was a pause before she nodded. "Yeah, no, I— It's fine. We're on our way. We'll be there soon… Okay…" She smiled gently. "I know. Thank you." She nodded. "Okay. No, I'll tell him… Okay. Okay, bye."

As she put the phone away, she dug out two ear pieces and held one out to him.

He stared at it, there between her fingers, a small, unsaid olive branch.

He took it, tucking it in his ear. And then, without another word, he pulled back on the road and continue toward Allen Warren's palatial new house.

The first thing he saw was lights; Allen had put a lot of effort into dressing his new property with as much flash as he could. Search light-like lamps lit the path leading up to driveway, where a valet waited to park his vehicle for him. Different colored lawn lights were set up in front of the flower beds that lined the front of the house, which was lit up brightly, like a beacon for any who were coming, and to make jealous any who were not invited. Oliver barely kept his lip from curling in disdain.

He dropped the car keys in the valet's hand, buttoned his jacket, and moved around the car to open the passenger door. He held a hand out for Felicity to take and waited until she'd stepped ahead of him before moving to keep pace at her side. His hand stretched, now bereft of hers; he wasn't sure where to put it, not after their conversation.

She dug into her clutch and came up with the invitation she'd received the day before as they stepped through the open door and into the foyer of the very large house. A brightly lit up chandelier lit up, giving the room a golden glow.

When Felicity chuckled, he tipped his head curiously at her.

"Sorry. It's just something Thea said earlier."

He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to elaborate.

She cast her eyes away, her lips curled up in an amused grin. "Just something about compensating…"

He smiled then, some of the tension bleeding out of his shoulders. "Should I be worried about what you two get up to on your own?"

She chuckled. "Definitely." With that, she walked away, coming to a stop next to a tall, thin man holding a board with a guest list attached. She beamed at him and held aloft their invitation. "Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak."

The man's eyes widened in surprise as he took the invitation and then looked from her to Oliver. "Mister Warren said you were on the list and that you RSVP'd, but I wasn't holding my breath."

Felicity's brow furrowed. "Really? Why?"

"Well…" He paused, glanced around, and then said covertly, "New blood… They're always so eager in the beginning."

Oliver cleared his throat. "Then we're in for a treat." His hand found Felicity's hip and drew her toward his side. He was about to step inside before pausing. "On a scale of one to ten… what is _eager?_"

He wrinkled his nose a little. "An ice sculpture in his image… as a Greek God."

Felicity choked on air, her hand raising to cover her mouth. She looked up at Oliver, brows raised. "Thea is going to love this," she said, digging her phone out of her clutch. "I need pictures."

He chuckled low under his breath and led her away.

It was going to be an interesting night.

They followed a few other guests into a room filled with noise; a quartet was playing in the distance, setting a nice tone, people milled together in groups talking, and staff wove in and out seamlessly. If it weren't for the overly garish look of everything, it might have been nice. But as it was, there were too many flowers, too many lights and sculptures and paintings hanging on the walls. It was as if Warren had gone to the Rich-and-Proud store and purchased everything within sight.

Felicity made her way toward the ice sculpture with a grin on her face, already typing out a message to Thea. Oliver followed a few steps behind, his eyes casting around, looking for every exit and guard. There were a few doors, most of which were being used by the serving staff, carrying trays of hors d'oeuvres. As one passed, Felicity's eyes followed it, her lips perking up at the corners.

Oliver flagged one of the waiters down and looked over the tray. "Does anything have peanuts?" he wondered. "She's allergic."

When they glanced at Felicity, she made a dramatic choking noise and put a hand to her throat.

Oliver bit the inside of his lip to smother his amusement.

"No, no peanuts, sir," the waiter informed him.

"Thank you," he returned, taking a proffered napkin and a few of the hors d'oeuvres. He moved toward Felicity, who was back to texting Thea, her chin ducked down.

She snorted under her breath.

"How's Thea?" he wondered.

"Bored," she replied, tapping out another reply before finally tucking her phone back in her clutch. "Sorry. I guess it's just easier to get distracted there than focus on here." Her eyes fell to the napkin. "I love tiny food."

"I know… I have a fond memory of leaving an extremely boring event early and finding out you stuffed your purse full of 'tiny food.'"

"In my defense, those were the best cucumber sandwiches I've ever had in my life." She plucked a cracker with pate off the napkin and popped it in her mouth. "Which is why I ate twelve of them."

His mouth twitched. "If I remember correctly, Digg complained you didn't bring him any."

"_Technically_… I did. I just… _ate _them."

Oliver smiled down at her, watching as she licked a few crumbs from her lips, painted a pale pink. She eyed the napkin once more and he beat her to the punch, picking up another cracker and holding it out for her to eat.

Without giving it much thought, she accepted his offer, but after two bites seemed to realize how intimate it was and glanced at him before purposely putting her attention elsewhere.

"_Felicity, what time is the dinner supposed to be?"_ Diggle's voice suddenly piped up from his ear.

"Any minute now," she replied. "We have a five course meal and then it's schmoozing time… We'll sit down for food, mostly because I missed lunch and Thea kept complaining that you don't eat before you put on expensive clothes." She rolled her eyes. "And then we'll make our daring escape… Is it really an escape if we're still in the building? It's more like a brief sneak away. That doesn't sound half as cool, though."

"_Felicity_," Digg interrupted.

"Sorry. I'm going to blame it on food deprivation, even though we both know I would've babbled anyway."

"_Tap twice when you're done dinner or if there's trouble_," he replied, before the comm. cut out, effectively going silent once more.

"Somebody's grumpy."

"Probably because he doesn't get any tiny _or_ big food stuck down in the foundry," he reminded, his eyes wandering around the room at the familiar faces. He offered his usual CEO smile to a few, waving when they noticed him.

"You're right. We should pick him up something," she said thoughtfully.

"Sure. On the way back, we'll stop by and get him something from that Thai place he likes."

"Sabhai Thai."

He nodded, bringing his eyes back to hers. "How are you feeling?"

"Hungry," she replied.

"Felicity…" he said quietly, staring at her searchingly.

She sighed. "Fine. So I'm still a little nervous, and awkward, and just… very, _very _aware of you."

"So what can I do?" At her frown, he shrugged. "We're going to be here for at least a couple more hours, what can I do to make it easier for you?"

She tugged on her fingers, staring up at him. "I don't know. I don't think you can fix it. I think it just… _is_."

"Why don't we talk? To pass the time," he offered. "You pick the topic, anything."

"Anything," she repeated, raising an eyebrow up at him.

"Within reason, given the setting, but… yes."

She chewed her lip, a distracting sight, before finally saying, "Okay… Best memory of Thea growing up."

He smiled. "It wasn't just one. It was a collection. It was the way she lit up when she saw me, how she followed me everywhere… How she'd scream my name when I walked into a room, like she'd missed me so much when I was gone…" His brow furrowed and his smile faded. "Part of me was still expecting her to be the same girl when I got back from the island. I knew, logically, that she'd grow up, but… I wasn't prepared to lose the excited girl who still saw me as her hero."

"She might not chase you around everywhere, but she still admires you. Your strength, how hard you've worked to keep Queen Consolidated going… You'll always be her big brother."

He released a heavy breath, his chest lightening. His hand found hers and he squeezed, rubbing his thumb over her fingers. "Thank you."

She didn't pull her hand away, and he counted it as a small victory.

"What about you? What's your favorite childhood memory?"

She hummed, reaching up to tug on a curl of her hair. "My first computer."

He grinned. "I'm not surprised."

"You shouldn't be…" She shrugged. "It was a big deal. There are just certain things that you find that connection with, and it doesn't matter that they're inanimate objects or they won't make you a friendship bracelet and talk about boys, they're yours. So I was a little girl who was kind of weird and spent a lot of time reading. And one day, I had a computer, and I realized that this was something I could do. This was something I was good at. And I was proud of that." She tipped her chin up and met his eyes. "I'm still proud of that. Even if in high school, I was the proverbial computer geek, in the end, I knew I was talented, that I had worked hard to learn what I had. Nothing can take that away."

He stared down at her a moment. "When we first met, when I brought that laptop to you, and I said that I'd asked for help and they'd sent me to you… I lied. I did a little research before I came to QC. I knew exactly who I wanted help from. I couldn't go to just anyone and I figured you were the least likely to ask questions."

She laughed, her head ducking. "I guess that didn't work out as well as you thought."

"It worked out better."

She looked up at him, her humor fading. "You had to know, after the first time you brought me that… bullet-ridden laptop and I called you on your _pathetic _lie, that I wasn't the one you should be going to if you wanted it easy."

"I did." He nodded slowly, his face serious. "But when I walked in there and you rambling… It was the first time I'd really smiled since I got back from the island." He swallowed thickly. "That happens when I'm with you. It's natural. It's like some part of me forgets to put up barriers against you, and it confused me at first… I spent so much time surviving, I didn't even think I knew how to be sincere anymore. And then you were mocking me and my, admittedly, really bad lie… And those walls chipped… They kept chipping." He shook his head. "And I thought they fell. I thought they were gone. But I've been thinking, about us and our relationship and… and the things I've done and said and _not _said and…" He swallowed thickly. "You deserved better than what I gave you… Felicity, you— I didn't tell you enough that I loved you or that you mattered to me and that… that will probably always haunt me."

"Oliver…"

"Just… I know this is the wrong setting and it's a bad place to say it, but I… I've been trying to find the right time for six weeks, but someone is always there or something is always happening, and I realized I'm never going to have a perfect moment. And if I keep putting it off, then it's going to be too late. I'm going to miss my chance to say anything at all and you're going to go on thinking that I wasn't as invested or I wasn't as in love with you as you were with me and… that's not true. I—I know how it looks and I know that I made mistakes, but you need to know that I…" He inhaled shakily and took both her hands, staring down at them as he rubbed his thumbs over her knuckles, over and over. And then he met her eyes, staring up at him, conflicted and sad. "I love you. I will always love you. Even if you never forgive me, even if I never fix this… I was happy with you. The happiest I've ever been in my life. And I'll never regret that."

She stared up at him, a tear slipping down her cheek as she blinked, and he reached for it, catching it with his thumb.

Her brow furrowed and her lips parted, but a voice intervened before she could.

"Welcome, everyone, to my _humble _abode…" Allen Warren laughed from where he stood on the stage in front of the quartet.

With a sigh, Oliver knew that the moment had passed and it was time to focus back on the mission. A small part of him dearly wished he was still the man who just arrowed bad guys, if only to have avoided the poorly time interruption. As it was, he'd just have to paste on a smile and deal with it, all the while vowing that he wouldn't let his moment pass. He was going to change Felicity's mind, whatever it took.

[**Next**: Part IV.]

* * *

**Author's Note**: _So I'm already finished the next chapter and had planned to post all 12,000 words in one go, but it still needs editing for spelling mistakes, and this was as far as I got before my brain threatened to shut down on me completely. It's 4:20 am where I am, but I know how long you guys have been waiting for this and I didn't want to put it off. I hope you enjoyed it. Plenty more to come soon! Who's excited for the conclusion of this story? There's still at least two more separate stories for this series, but only one chapter left of this particular part of their story._

_Thank you so much for reading, please leave a review. It's really nice to hear what you think and what you liked. _

- **Lee | Fina**


	4. Just One Word

**Title**: Every whisper, every sigh (eats away this heart of mine)  
**Series**: Broken Hearts and Betrayal  
**Category**: Arrow  
**Genre**: Angst/Romance  
**Ship**: Felicity/Oliver  
**Rating**: Teen/PG-13  
**Word Count**: 6,466  
**Summary**: "If I have no chance, if you're really done with me… Say the word. I'll respect it. I'll stop trying to fix it. Just tell me you're done… Because if you don't, I'm not going to give up on you."

**Previous**: When they ask me if I regret it (I'll lie and say I do), I really fucked it up this time (didn't I, my dear?), I saved you every time (I was a fool for love), Things cannot be reversed (we learn from times we are cursed),

**_Every whisper, every sigh (eats away this heart of mine)  
_**-4/4-

**IV**.

Allen Warren cleared enjoyed attention. He stood atop the stage, a tall, bubbling glass of champagne in one hand and a microphone in the other. Oliver could just imagine him practicing his speech in front of the mirror, with appropriate pauses for clapping and laughter, like the true narcissist he was. He would practice humility so when others came up to thank him for his hard work, he looked appropriately modest, all the while laughing at the manipulation he wielded so easily.

"It has been my aim from the beginning to do what I can to keep the good people of Starling City safe and I hope, since you're all here, that I've done my job!"

Everyone gathered clapped for him appropriately, and the idea that they truly believed that was his aim turned Oliver's stomach. These people had put their trust in Allen Warren; they had paid him for the dream he'd sold them of safety. And because he wanted more money, a man had been brutally killed. Here he stood, however, not an inkling of remorse, playing to the crowd, enjoying their attention, clueless, or careless, of the pain he'd caused.

As Allen continued talking, Felicity used the moment to turn around, leaving Oliver's close proximity and composing herself as she did. She forced a smile just in case their host or the guests looked in her direction, but he could see from the stiff set of her shoulders that she was not as at ease as others might think.

Oliver's jaw ticked. He hated that their moment had been interrupted when he finally felt like he was making headway, but it was a good reminder that they had a mission to accomplish. He vaguely listened to the rest of Allen's speech, but his attention was split between the stage and Felicity. They weren't making a move on Allen's office until after dinner, so he had some time until then. He'd already gone over the layout of the house a hundred times with Digg; he knew where he was going and how to get there. It was just a matter of making sure that security didn't notice them sneaking away.

Finally, finishing his speech with a flourish, Allen invited the group to dine with him and two sets of doors were opened, leading into the dining room. Delighted, the crowd moved toward the doors, filing through to find a long table dressed in silverware, candles, and elaborate displays of fruit and flowers. White name cards with gold script marked where everyone was sitting and Oliver pulled Felicity's chair out before taking a seat in his own.

Standing at the head of the table with a too-bright smile, Allen told them all to enjoy before he clapped his hands and took a seat.

Oliver barely noticed the appetizer they brought out except for Felicity lowering her head to breathe in the scent of it.

"So hungry," she murmured.

He reached for her glass and filled it with ice water from the jug within reach. "There'll be plenty to eat. I'm surprised he only went with five courses."

"Ugh, you'd need scissors to get me out of my dress if there was more than five." She paused. "Not that you'll be helping me out of my dress. Because you won't."

He half-smiled at her, a brow raised.

She glared at him, but there was no heat in it. "Shut up."

He chuckled under his breath and watched as she picked up her fork to try what was on her plate. She took one bite and immediately gave a soft moan of appreciation.

Shifting in his seat, he cleared his throat. "Good?"

"Heavenly." She waved her fork at him. "I've changed my mind. Make it eight courses. The dress is disposable."

"I'll pass it on to our host."

She paused, looking past him toward Allen at the head of the table. Leaning closer so she wouldn't be overheard, she said, "You know, I still think it's weird. I know he's a bad guy, I know he's done terrible things, but I still expect it to be written all over them…" Her eyes narrowed. "He does have a greasy car salesman vibe though… Like, Wormwood greasy, but with more hair."

He blinked down at her. "Wormwood?"

"From Matilda… Danny DeVito." At his completely blank face, she rolled her eyes. "It was made in '96, Oliver, you don't even have an excuse for that one."

"We'll have to watch it sometime," he said easily.

"Felicity," someone called, and her attention was quickly diverted.

Across from them sat a handsome, older couple; Diane and Archibald Matthews, Oliver remembered.

Diane smiled at Felicity brightly. "It's so nice to see you, dear. We haven't seen you at an event in too long."

"She had the stomach flu, you remember dear," her husband told her, patting her hand affectionately.

"That's right. How have you been feeling?" Diane worried.

"Oh, um…" She turned her head to look at Oliver, her brows hiked. "How am I feeling, Oliver?"

"Much better," he answered, grinning at Diane and Archie. His hand landed on her back, rubbing circles between her shoulder blades. "The flowers you sent were very beautiful, thank you."

"Yes, so beautiful," Felicity said, and he felt her fingers pinch his leg.

He covered his wince with a forced smile. "How have you been? I haven't seen you since the benefit dinner for the women's shelter."

"Good. We've been traveling," Archie answered, squeezing his wife's hand. "If she could, I think this one would live on the jet."

"It _is_ well stocked," she joked.

Felicity smiled gently, looking between them with a soft affection. The first time Oliver introduced her to the Matthews, she'd gushed that they were the cutest couple she'd ever seen. '_They're just so in love, after all those years together_,' she'd said. '_Do you know how special that is?_'

He watched her watching them, replying to Diane though he wasn't listening to the conversation. He liked how animated she was, how her hands were always moving along with her. In the past, he'd had to learn how to avoid being smacked in the face by those waving hands, but he'd long gotten used to it. It was just one of those things that made her who she was.

She turned then, looking him in the eye, her head quirked.

"Sorry?" he said, realizing he'd missed something.

"Diane was just asking if you knew of any places to visit in Dubai. I told her we stayed in the Hyatt the last time we were there, but…" Her brows hiked, "we didn't get much sight-seeing done."

"Oh." He looked back the Matthews and offered a sheepish smile. "Sorry. I've been distracted tonight."

"Oh, we understand. Young love." Diana grinned at him before winking at Felicity. "Lucky girl. He can hardly keep his eyes off you."

Felicity offered a faint smile, but was poking at the appetizer on her plate with her fork.

"That's what got us talking last time, when you had that flu, dear. He looked so lost without you there." Diane laughed lightly and reached over to readjust her husband's bowtie. "Just like my Archie, I'd imagine."

"I'm sure it wasn't that bad," Felicity said with a chuckle, playing with the stem of her water glass for a distraction. "Oliver's been coming to these things for years."

"If there's one thing I learned in all my years of marriage, it's that when you get a good partner, you don't let them go, and you realize why when they're not there." Diane smiled at her husband. "Things like these, they get old fast. But when you have the right person to share them with, they fly by. It's not just about having a husband. It's about having your best friend there to make you laugh. Somebody to commiserate with is fine, but what you really want is someone who'll make it better just by being there."

Felicity's smile was forced. "Sounds like you have it all figured out."

"I certainly like to think so," she laughed.

The wait staff returned then with a second appetizer and Oliver took the chance to return to the previous topic, telling Diane and Archie about a few must-see places in Dubai. The conversation stayed relatively safe after that as they moved through each course.

As Felicity picked at her salad, particularly enjoying the goat cheese, he sat back in his chair, laughing at a story Archie was sharing about his rather rebellious youth. From the corner of his eyes, he noticed Felicity's hair slipping off her shoulder, en route to her salad, and reached out to catch the spilling curls, pulling them back over her shoulder to drape down her back.

She turned to look at him, her finger pressed to her lips as she chewed, and noticed his fingers were stroking down over her shoulder blade. He hadn't realized his hand was lingering until she stared in the direction of his hand and he slowly drew it away, careful not to bring attention to it lest someone notice. Or so he comforted himself. The truth was, he missed touching her, he missed that connection with another person. Felicity was one of the very few people he felt comfortable being physical with, and now that he couldn't, he was constantly aware of the lack of touch in his current life.

Salad was replaced with a palate cleanser, which Felicity hummed happily over.

"Pink grapefruit," she informed him, wiggling in her seat a little.

"Matches your lipstick," he said, eyeing the pale pink sorbet.

She smiled down at it, scooping a small bite into her mouth and letting it melt on her tongue.

When she noticed he wasn't eating any, her brow furrowed. "You're not eating."

He shook his head. "I'm fine."

"You didn't have any of the appetizers or the salad," she reminded.

"I'm not hungry."

She put on her stubborn force and inhaled deeply. He could feel a lecture coming his way and sighed.

"Oliver, what did you have for lunch?"

He frowned, turning his eyes up thoughtfully. He honestly couldn't remember what he'd eaten. He'd been busy planning, and when he wasn't thinking about the mission, he'd been thinking of how he would change her mind, which he hadn't made much progress in so far.

"I'm sure I had something," he muttered.

She raised an eyebrow.

He stared back.

Her lips pursed.

He sighed. "I'll eat the entrée."

Her expression softened. "You can't forget take care of yourself," she murmured.

Slowly, he nodded. "I know."

But it was all he thought about after the entrée and dessert had come and went. He did have to take care of himself. While he was with Felicity, she hadn't taken care of him, per se. She had worried and fussed, but that was her default setting. She did the same to Diggle. Oliver had survived before Felicity and he'd fallen into a routine when he was with her. It was just after their relationship had fallen apart that he had trouble finding his footing again. He didn't need her to baby him, to be his mother, he was a fully grown adult. It was just that when she wasn't there, the routine was gone, what he was used to was no longer part of the general landscape of the day. So when lunch came around, he didn't have it to share with her. He put the order in with his assistant each morning, making sure that Felicity had her lunch, but when it came to planning for himself, he simply didn't remember to. Cynthia had picked up on this and was trying to schedule a real lunch hour for him, but things were so disjointed at Queen Consolidated, things were always happening that didn't follow the set schedule for the day, so it was hard to move with the flow and keep up with necessary self-care.

If he was being honest, some part of him wasn't trying. He didn't like how things were; it was a minor rebellion, he supposed. Like how he'd been with his previous assistants, how he'd dismissed each of them as unnecessary, not because of their actual work ethic, but because they weren't Felicity. He was creating a new routine and it was unhealthy, because he missed how it had been before. He missed her. He missed their life together. And some unhealthy part of him thought that if he just blatantly discarded the way his life was now, it would go back to how he wanted it. Which, of course, made no sense. He spent five years on an island, wishing day and night that he could go back to how it was, and that wish never truly came to fruition. He left the island, but nothing was ever the same, it was never what it was. What did that say about him and Felicity? If he did change her mind, would they be the same? Would they ever bounce back from what had happened in that office six weeks ago?

He turned to look at her, smiling, her elbows resting on the table as she leaned forward, nodding to something Diane was saying. She was so beautiful, so kind and supportive and strong. Despite how she'd felt about tonight, despite her uncertainty and her discomfort with him, she'd pushed through that for the mission. Even after crying, after telling him she wasn't sure she could do this with him, that exes weren't friends for a reason, she still managed to pull through and keep going. She was surviving this break up a lot better than he was. He felt like he was falling apart most mornings. Like some very significant part of himself was missing. If she felt that way, she wasn't showing it. He knew she was sad, he knew she was broken up about what happened and hurt about what he did, but Felicity didn't show it the same way he did. In that regard, maybe she was the stronger of the two of them. He might have the physical strength, but she had the emotional strength.

Chairs were being pushed back from the table and he shook off his melancholy thoughts, focusing back on the present.

Felicity had her clutch in hand once more and pressed a hand to his shoulder. "I let Digg know that we finished dinner. There should be dancing and mingling after this and then he'll make another speech, probably more of the sales-pitch variety. Somewhere in between those two, we should do our sneak-away."

He nodded, standing from his seat, his hand finding the small of her back as he walked her toward the ball room. People were standing in groups, chatting about this or that. Allen was moving from group to group, trying to impress and talk up his security company. Felicity was tense. She usually was before they had to execute a mission. In the past, it had been easy to distract her. More than once, he'd simply kissed down her neck and whispered promises of how they would celebrate their victory, feeling her relax into his arms, leaning against his chest. But he couldn't do that now, and he was at a loss for a moment as to how he could get her to find her calm until they had to make a move.

And then he heard the band cue up again.

"Dance?" he asked, holding a hand out.

She looked up at him in surprise. "What?"

He reached down for her hand and twined their fingers, drawing her with him toward the space that had been specifically cleared for dancing, though nobody else had taken advantage yet. "You're tense. If we're going to sneak out of here, they have to think we're caught up in the moment…" He turned toward her, his hand sliding over her hip and around to the small of her back, drawing her closer, until their hips brushed together. He raised their twined hands up in the air while her free hand found his shoulder, and they started to move slowly, finding a comfortable rhythm between them.

He stared down at her, though her eyes had settled on his chin and refused to rise any higher.

"Do you remember the first time we came to one of these together?" he asked, watching her pink tongue dart out to lick her lips. "We'd been dating two weeks and there was a fundraiser for the children's hospital… You wore a purple cocktail dress… They had some of the kids from the hospital there and there was a little girl who loved the skirt of your dress. She asked you to spin for her… I think you spent half the night twirling just because it made her smile."

"She said I looked like a princess," she murmured, smiling. "Her name was Emily. She was a sweetheart."

"I think that's the moment I realized I was content."

Her brow furrowed as she looked up at him.

"There aren't a lot of times in my life when things slow down enough that I can enjoy anything. It's just one thing after another. One mission ends and another's waiting. One crisis at work is fixed and there's something else that pops up… And these galas and benefits, I knew they were important, but they all felt like they were just one more thing I needed to add to the pile. One more thing to split my attention between…" He smiled faintly. "And then you were there, and you were twirling, and suddenly I wasn't waiting for it to end, I was just there, in that moment, watching a beautiful, smart, _kind _woman make a little girl smile."

Her hand squeezed his shoulder, gripping so tight he could feel the fabric of his jacket ball up under her palm. "Sometimes after work, I get on the elevator and I just stand there… I want to push the button and go up to your floor, but I don't…" She shook her head. "I want to tell you about my day, I want to hear how yours went, so I stand there… I just _stand _there, staring at the buttons, until someone else gets on the elevator, and then I remember that I can't do that. I can't share that with you anymore."

"You could. You can always come to me."

She let out a huff of a sigh and loosened her hand, sliding it down his arm, her thumb rubbing circles over his bicep absently. "No, Oliver, I can't… The way you look at me… That sad, lost look you get in your eyes. It _hurts_. It physically hurts to look at you and think that you hurt when I feel like you did this. You changed this."

"I'm sorry. I'm not trying to make you feel guilty…" He shook his head, swallowing tightly as he felt his throat burn with emotion. "I just miss you." His hand swept up her back, sliding under the soft waves of her hair, feeling them tickle his skin, before his fingers dragged back down. "I…"

He blew out a heavy breath and stepped a little closer, ducking his head until his cheek was against her temple. The hand he had tangled in hers spread open, his fingers standing upright, and hers followed. He stroked his fingers down the length of hers, dragging the pads over her palm before knitting them together once more. He brought her hand up then for him to kiss her wrist, where her pulse had picked up.

"Sunday mornings, chocolate chip pancakes in bed, and after, you'd just lay there, falling in and out of sleep, curled up against my side, playing with my fingers… Those were the best mornings. Looking down and seeing you'd fallen back asleep, your head on my arm. And then you'd wake up, and you'd smile at me sleepily… That's what I miss."

He untangled their fingers and slid his hand down her arm, looping it up around his neck before his fingers danced down over her side, squeezing her hip before it slid around her back and pulled her in close, until their chests were pressed flat together.

"I miss falling asleep on the couch with you while your tech shows play in the background… Going over paperwork while you read a book with your head in my lap… Having lunch together and breakfast and dinner and sharing a bottle of wine on really bad nights, just trying to make it a little better… I miss your voice and your face and how excited you get when you've tracked someone down or broken through a firewall. I just miss you, everything about you, every day."

He felt it, a warm tear against his cheek, but honestly didn't know if it was his or hers.

"_It's time_," Digg's voice in his ear piped up. "_Security shift change. Allen forgot to reschedule it for the event. Check the doors."_

As Digg had suggested, a few of the guards were speaking into cuff links and moving from their place by a number of exits toward the main door leading out of the ball room.

Oliver sighed before switching into Arrow mode. He maneuvered Felicity off the floor, keeping her close against his side as he bent his face down into the crook of her neck, briefly distracted by the scent of her perfume dabbed there. "How long do we have?"

"_Not long. The next shift will take over almost immediately. But it gives you time to sneak back there. When you come out, you can explain it away as needing some private time._"

Felicity pressed up against him for anybody who might be watching and, together, they made their way toward the doors leading to the hall that Allen's office was tucked away in. As soon as they were through the doors, letting them close behind them, Felicity let out a heavy breath and extracted herself from him.

"The cameras aren't set up yet. He has no eyes back here yet. That's the problem with moving into a new place; he hasn't got all of his security up and running yet."

Oliver quickly looked over the halls. "You're sure?"

She nodded. "He's probably focusing on certain security measures first, but with the party, he hasn't had time… He only moved in two weeks ago, and half that time was spent making sure the ball room and dining hall were up to par. Anywhere the guests might see… This house might be rich with history, but that also means it's old. There were a few repairs he had to have done before he moved in or had anybody over."

Oliver nodded, taking her word for it. They moved down the hall quickly, with him a few steps ahead, just in case they ran into anyone.

"That way," she said, pointing at one of the three hallways that segued together. "This place is kind of maze-like, actually. I wonder if he ever gets lost."

"Felicity?"

"Right. Third day on the left. Should be big; his office isn't small. In fact, it's the size of a small library." Her lips twitched.

He stopped at the double doors and tried the handle, surprised to find it unlocked.

"For a guy who runs security, this is sad," she muttered.

He paused. "You're right."

Her brow raised. "What?"

"He has a security company. This is too easy." He frowned staring down at the door handle. "It's a fake."

"What do you mean?"

"The handle's a fake. It's an illusion."

She shook her head. "I'm not following."

"_If you turn the handle, it sets off an alarm. There's another way in_," Digg spoke up. "_Smart_."

"There aren't any hidden passageways on the blue prints," Felicity said. "Just a door."

"The door is still a door, there's just a different way to open it," Oliver muttered, sliding his hands over the doors, searching for a hidden panel or button. And then he felt it, a small indent, a groove in the wood. He pressed down on it and heard a click. And then the outline of a door formed within the right-hand door. He pressed his hand against the wood and the panel moved back and then slid to the left, allowing them access. He looked back at Felicity, who rolled her eyes at his smug half-smirk.

He walked inside and she followed, moving past him toward the computer quickly, her dress swishing around her legs as she circled the desk and took a seat in the leather chair. Opening her clutch, she took out a USB and plugged it into the tower of the computer before quickly setting to work hacking into the system. She bit her lip with concentration, her eyes scanning every window that popped up, demanding codes and passwords before she hacked past that and further into the system. Oliver divided his attention between listening for any guards outside the office and watching her at-work, the self-satisfaction on her face something he couldn't help but admire.

"_How's it coming?_" Digg wondered.

"He might be a terrible person, but he does have a background in security. How do you _think _it's going?" Felicity answered.

"_Slowly_… Too _slowly._"

"Unless you're currently hacking past his servers, you can zip it, buddy!"

Digg sighed.

"Do not sigh at me. Or you are getting _no _Thai food when this is over."

"_When did we agree on Thai food?_"

"When you weren't here and Oliver guilted me into feeling bad that you weren't getting any tiny food."

"_If we're going with Thai, we should try that_—"

"Sabhai Thai, I know," she interrupted. "Oh. Oh!" She fist-pumped and grinned across the room at Oliver. "I'm in."

"Good. Now how long will it take to download his hard drive?"

She shook her head side to side and then sighed. "Longer than you want."

He frowned, but nodded his head sharply. "Do what it takes."

Time always seemed to slow down when he was waiting on things out of his control. He couldn't make the download hurry up; it would take as long as it took and there was no changing it. But he was impatient, he always had been, and he was hyperaware of what was going on outside the room. He hadn't heard any guards so far, but he expected them to show up any minute now.

Luck, it seemed, was on their side, however. Felicity managed to download everything and erase any traces of her hacking into his computer before hopping up from the chair and joining him at the door. They slipped out, closing the hidden door behind them, and started down the hall, back toward the party. The closer they got, the more he tensed, and when they were just short of the door, he could make out the silhouette of a guard standing right in front of it.

"If we try a window, it'll set off the alarms," Felicity whispered.

He nodded and then turned to her; he reached up to muss her hair a little and swiped his thumb over her lips to smudge her lipstick, taking some of it to rub on the collar of his shirt, which he unbuttoned, loosening his tie to hang crookedly over his chest. And then, taking up the carefree grin he was known for, he knocked on the door, startling the guard in front of it. It opened abruptly and he was faced with a surprised and angry looking man.

"You can't be back there."

"A little late for that," Oliver answered before drawing Felicity forward.

She wiped at her lips, where he lipstick was smudged, and offered a sheepish smile to the guard. "Sorry. I'm sure this happens all the time. I mean, you've probably run security for a bunch of these things and people sneak away all the time, right?" Her brows hiked. "Not that I'd tell anyone you didn't see us sneak past! I wouldn't want to put your job in danger or anything. We were just a little… Well…"

"We were impatient and we saw an opening, so we took it," Oliver finished. He grinned roguishly and shrugged at the guard. "Listen, keep it between us and I'll make sure you get a nice bonus." With a wink, he slid his arm around Felicity's waist, hugging her to his side, and walked them back into the crowd, leaving the speechless guard behind them.

"Are you actually going to give him a bonus?" she wondered.

He shrugged. "Oliver Queen paying off security isn't new. I used to do it all the time. If the people he works for find out he let us get by, he'd get in more trouble than we would for sneaking around, having sex in a room somewhere. It pays to be discreet in their business."

She hummed thoughtfully and let it drop. "We need to get back to the foundry so I can see what I got off his drive."

"_ETA?_" Digg asked.

"Thirty minutes," Oliver replied, "We'll pick up the food on the way."

"_Copy_."

The click to let them know he'd gone silent followed.

Felicity fidgeted next to him. "How bad do I look right now?"

He frowned, looking down at her. "You look fine. You got all the lipstick off. Your hair's just a little messy."

"Really?" She combed her fingers through it. "Because I wanted to say goodbye to Diane and Archie, but I don't want them to think we were just having sex somewhere."

"That's exactly what we want them to think," he reminded.

"Yes, _them_, but not, you know, them."

He stared down at her.

"I don't want Archie and Diane to think that, because they're… sweet and kind of innocent."

"They're almost sixty and have five children. I don't think they're as innocent as you think they are."

She elbowed his side. "You know what I mean."

With that, she left him behind, hurrying her steps to reach the couple she liked so much. It took a few minutes to say goodbye, mostly because Diane liked to talk and kept trying to engage Felicity in conversation before she could leave, but finally he was able to tear her away, promising they'd catch up again soon.

After that, time seemed to fly by. They picked up the car from the valet, stopped at Sabhai Thai, and were back in the foundry just a little over their thirty-minute ETA. Felicity was quick to get to work, taking a seat in her chair and spinning toward her computers. She cracked her fingers and plugged in the USB, setting up a program to read through the files for anything important, while she skimmed a few of the labeled files, sharing bits and pieces that she thought Digg and Oliver would find interesting. For the most part, however, a lot of it would need more time than they had that night, and Felicity was already looking tired, her heels kicked off and her hair tied up in a ponytail. She yawned into her hand, blinking rapidly at her too-bright screen, scanning one of hundreds of files.

"I think I'm going to call it a night," Digg said, a couple hours after their return.

He wished them the best and gave Oliver a pointed look before he left.

The foundry was noticeably silent after Diggle's absence, and Oliver moved to stand behind her, his hand settled on the back of her chair. "It's getting late. We should probably head home."

She looked up abruptly. "Right. Sure. I just… I just need to make sure everything is running and then we can go. I can take a cab, actually."

"Felicity, I can drive you home."

"You don't have to. I—"

"I don't have to, but I'd like to… If you're okay with that."

She stared at the floor a long moment before finally nodding. "Yes… Yeah, I think that'll be fine."

"Okay."

He left her to her computers as he moved around the foundry, making sure everything was put away before they left. He hung his bow up for the night and gathered up the tennis balls he'd taken out to relieve stress earlier that day. He considered doing that now. He was feeling tense again; the night might have been a mission-wise, but he still felt like he hadn't done what he'd wanted to when he'd asked Felicity to join him. And that was the problem. He felt like they'd been stuck in the same place since they'd broken up. There was no traction, or little to none. She was at least talking to him now, meeting his eyes, willingly being in the same space as him without someone there as a buffer. But they were still apart, they were still separate, and he didn't like that. He didn't want that.

"Ready," Felicity said, drawing his attention once more.

He looked up from where he'd been fingering the edge of an arrow. He tucked it back where it was supposed to go and moved to meet her. He was still in his suit, but his shirt was untucked and unbuttoned at the top, his tie shed. He shrugged off his jacket and hung it around her shoulders as they moved toward the stairs. When she looked at him over her shoulder, he explained, "It's cold out and you didn't bring a jacket."

Her lips curled up faintly and she stepped forward, climbing the stairs up to the dark, empty club. They made their way outside and across the parking lot to where his car was waiting. He opened her car door and waited for her to climb in before circling around to the other side. And just as before, he turned on the heat and checked the radio station to see if it was on her station.

Pulling onto the road, he took the familiar route to her house. How many times had he driven that? Sometimes Digg dropped him off, but more often than not it was just him and Felicity in her car, heading back to her apartment for the night. He knew he'd feel just how empty his bed was when he got home; he was already dreading those cold sheets.

He found himself driving slower, taking his time, lingering; he didn't want her to leave yet. He didn't want it to go back to how it had been these last six weeks. He was tired, so tired, of being so close and yet so far at the same time. She was right there and still out of reach. And he wasn't sure if anything he'd done or said tonight had changed that.

In the end, he couldn't avoid the inevitable. He pulled up in front of her apartment building and climbed out of the car before she could protest. He opened her door and took her hand to help her out. It'd been a while since she'd worn heels, he thought absently. She'd taken to wearing her flats again, he noticed. The old panda heads he hadn't seen in too long. They still fit her somehow, despite how much everything had changed.

"Well, I guess, all things considered, tonight turned out pretty good," she said, half-smiling as she held her clutch to her stomach. She stood at the bottom of the stairs, his jacket still around her shoulders. "Nobody's bleeding _and_ we got the info we wanted. A rare but much-deserved break, I think."

He nodded slowly. "Maybe our luck's turning around."

"Fingers crossed."

He tucked his hands in the pockets of his pants and frowned, his brow furrowing. "To be honest, tonight didn't go the way I wanted it to."

She paused for a moment, just staring at him. Her voice was soft when she replied, "No?"

He shook his head, licking his lips. "I'd hoped… I _wanted_… to prove something to you, I think." When she didn't answer right away, he continued, "I thought if I could just show you what it used to be like, what _we _were like, you'd change your mind about me… That if I could just make you laugh or smile or… look at me like you used to, you might…" His voice caught in his throat, straining it, and he blinked as his eyes burned. "I think I just wanted a sign. Some… small sign that… it wasn't over, but…"

"But what?"

He raised his eyes to meet hers and shook his head. "I need you to say it."

Her brow knit. "Say what?"

"Tell me it's over." He stared at her searchingly. "If I have no chance, if you're really done with me… Say the word. I'll respect it. I'll stop trying to fix it. Just tell me you're done… Because if you don't, I'm not going to give up on you." He took a step toward her and reached a hand out to take hers, squeezing it in his own. "I'll fight for you, I'll fight to be better, to be the person you loved once, and I won't stop. Not unless you tell me to. That's all you have to do. One word, Felicity, and… I'll let you go."

It physically pained him to say it. He could feel his heart clench up in his chest. But he couldn't force Felicity to do anything, and he wouldn't want to. He was happy with her, and he thought she'd been happy to. But if she couldn't feel that anymore, if she was always going to doubt them, then he didn't want her to live like that either. He didn't want them to be in a relationship where she didn't feel as loved as she deserved. If that wasn't with him, he would have to respect that. He wouldn't like it. How could he, really? But he respected her, and he loved her, enough to know that she had to make the best decision for herself, and he might not be it.

She stared at their hands a long moment, his thumb rubbing over the top of hers, stroking along the tendons like he used to when her hands hurt from typing all day. And then her eyes rose up to meet his, a lifetime passing in a moment, and finally she released his hand and turned around, climbing the stairs and unlocking her door before she walked inside.

And he stood there, watching her go, his heart filled with a hollow ache for just a moment. Until he realized…

He told her to say something, just one word, and he would stop trying.

She hadn't said anything at all. Not. One. Word.

He smiled then, hope blooming deep in chest.

It wasn't over.

[**End**.]

* * *

**Author's Note**: _So I was going to wait another day or two, but I got excited, lol. _

_I'm happy with how this ended. As I said before, it's not the end of the series, just the end of this particularly story. I still have at least two more stories within the series, one that's a multi-chapter like this one, so there's plenty to look forward to. But I just really love that after all this, we see Oliver making progress in his counseling sessions and here he is making an honest and direct effort to fix things with Felicity. She's not going to just forgive him. Remember that she has no idea that he's seeing a psychologist. _

_We see her feelings on how things have changed in the next part. It won't be a rewrite of this from her point of view, I don't really like to write those. It'll just touch on her feelings after his confessions and her decision not to say a word, letting him know that she wasn't willing to completely bury the relationship either. And that's huge for her, because she has been very adamant, with herself and Thea, that she and Oliver were over. So it goes to show that the things he's been saying and how they are together did in fact have an impact. Oliver didn't think he was making much of a dent in her resolve, but she was noticing, she was hearing him. _

_In any case, I hope you guys liked this! _

_To my lovely reader who will be going away to spend time with their family and will be wi-fi-less, I hope this gets to you in time so you have something to read pre-flight! _

_Thank you all for reading. Please do leave a review. I'd love to know what your favorite part was, how you feel about Felicity giving him the sign that she wasn't shutting him down completely, and if you're excited to read the next parts. _

_Happy Friday!_

- **Lee | Fina**


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